


Choice's Curse

by gthgrlxo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And violence, Angst, Cedric is not dead, Cho is kinda nasty sometimes too, Draco is not very nice, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Golden Trio, I'll update tags as I go, JK Rowling whom, Like really slow, Lots of Angst, Love Triangles, NSFW, Romance, Slow Burn, There is very little of this that, Voldemort stuff doesn't really come into play, but that’s part of the fun right, but the essence of the characters and story are the same, characters are aged up!, i took a lot of creative liberty, is like actually canon, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:53:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 44
Words: 192,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26366008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gthgrlxo/pseuds/gthgrlxo
Summary: Draco let his shock slip through the dense barrier of calm he had constructed, and Snape, the bastard, had the gall to look smug. “I pride myself in being rather adept at spotting imposters, Ms. Adler, and you certainly are a snake hiding in the eagle’s nest, are you not?”“Yes,” I was forced to say, even as my stomach churned. I was, I realized. I was, and I had done a damn good job of fooling everyone, even myself.
Relationships: Cho Chang/Cedric Diggory, Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Draco Malfoy/Reader, Harry Potter/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter/Reader, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 253
Kudos: 440





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is the first fanfic I've ever published, though I've written a few throughout the past couple of years. I'll be updating quite quickly, as I've really been enjoying this story and I have a lot of ideas for it. Hopefully, there will be a new chapter at least every other day. I've absolutely not edited anything I've written, so pardon any mistakes you may find! If there are any warnings needed in any chapter, I'll put them before the chapter starts. Enjoy!

The cold, misty September air filled my lungs with an icy breath as I stepped out of the cab in the parking lot of King’s Cross station. A flutter of excitement filled my chest as I grabbed my trunk out of the cab and paid the driver. I was finally going back to Hogwarts, back to home, after the worst summer I had ever experienced. As I walked in, the people and the noise made me shrink back a little bit. It was always so odd being around so many people after spending my summers alone for most of the time, but the slightly overwhelming feeling was incredibly welcome after so many months of solitude. I made my way to platform 9 ¾, doing my best not to bump into people with my massive trunk, but still earning a few stares and shoulder bumps that made me wince. Making sure no one was looking, I ducked into the wall, and as soon as I passed through, my heart began to race with excitement. Even the platform was so much more familiar and warm than home, with all the 1st years bustling with nerves and joy, the parents fussing over their children, and the Hogwarts Express, sitting there in all its burgundy glory. My face broke out into a massive grin as I spotted Hermione and Luna chatting as they walked onto the train. I broke out into a run and grabbed Hermione in a huge, rib-crushing hug.

Hermione let out a giant, warm laugh as I hugged her. “Hello to you too, Elaine.” Her arms wrapped around my torso, and I sighed into the familiar scent: parchment, vanilla, and the faintest hints of bergamot. I let go of Hermione and gave Luna a hug as well, though she was a bit preoccupied with the magazine she was holding...upside down. Makes sense, I thought. Luna’s little oddities never really surprised me anymore after being her friend for three years.

“Come on! Harry and Ron are already waiting for us on the train.” Hermione walked up the steps, Luna following and me in the back. We made our way through the crowded train, pushing past other students as they stood in the hallway. People were giggling and talking and it felt so good to be back with everyone, even those that I didn’t care for all that much. Ron’s red hair popped out of a compartment a few rows up, and waved us over. I glanced at Hermione, her face blooming into a bright blush, and I elbowed her side, throwing her a sneaky grin that earned me a pinch on the arm.

“Shut up,” she whispered angrily to me, glancing around to see if anyone saw.

“Shut up? I didn’t even say anything!” I laughed as we entered the compartment where Harry and Ron were sat, already spread out and comfortable for the long journey ahead. Harry glanced up as we walked in, his face lighting up as he saw the three of us.

“Elaine! Hermione! Luna! My god, I missed you! How were your summers?” He stood and wrapped his arms around each of us, and I noticed they felt a bit stronger than they had in years past. He had grown a little bit too.

Hermione plopped down next to the window, as she had the past five years. “Good. Boring, but I read this incredibly fascinating book on the history of Gringott’s, and got a lot of studying done.”

Ron leaned over to me and whispered, “Of course she would spend her summer learning.”

I tried to hide my giggle as Hermione finished her story, glancing over to see Harry already looking back at me.

“What about you, Elaine?” Ron asked me, and I instantly went still as that familiar feeling of dread washed over me. 

“Oh, um, you know. Same old thing for me. Read a lot.” It felt like a monumental effort to get even those few words out and my mood plummeted as I was reminded of my home. Of the coldness and darkness that lived there.

Harry’s face was full of concern as he looked at me. Out of anyone here, he knew the most about what went on at home. I had opened up to him our first year at Hogwarts, when neither of us had received gifts on Christmas. Well, besides the ones Mrs. Weasley had so kindly made for us. I had spent the day sitting on the bank of the lake on the grounds, and Harry had found me freezing there with tears running down my face, my fingers having gone numb and stiff hours ago. He had sat down next to me on the cold ground, and told me all about the Dursleys’ and his cupboard and how Dudley terrorized him. I don’t know how he knew, maybe he didn’t, but I told him about my home life and how it was… less than ideal. Ever since then, though we had all become incredibly close, Harry and I had always shared a special bond, and he knew that talking about my life outside of Hogwarts tended to destroy any good mood I was in.

“Well, my summer was insane. Dudley is actually wider now than he is long, and my aunt has gone fully nuts. She found a sock in the hallway and screamed for an hour about how I’m ruining her perfect little house.” The group laughed and I shot Harry a grateful look that earned me a small smile in return.

And no, it absolutely did not erupt butterflies in my stomach.

We talked for a while longer, and eventually I was sent to find some sweets, as Ron would not stop moaning about how he was sure he was starving to death, even though we all knew how wonderful Mrs. Weasley’s cooking was. As I made my way to find the cart, I spotted Cho sitting with Cedric. Cho had been my first friend here and Cedric and I had played on the Ravenclaw team together since our second year, so he and I were close as well. I popped my head in to say hello to them, and I smiled as Cho drew lazy circles on Cedric’s hand, her head resting on his broad shoulder. 

It had taken literal years for them to finally admit they both had feelings for each other. Last year, Cho and Harry had kissed, and somehow word got back to Cedric right before practice one day. No one had ever seen the sweet, mild-mannered boy so angry; he had nearly knocked me off my broom during a drill because of all his bubbling frustration. Later that night, Cho had floated into our room where I was sitting on my bed, and she told me he had finally asked her out. Of course, they had gotten into a massive fight first in front of our entire house in the common room. Cedric had asked her why she possibly thought kissing Harry was a good idea, and she had responded that at least he gave her the time off day. Cedric stormed off, and Cho had broken down into tears.

I was glad to see them happy. They deserved it.

I turned to continue on my way, and immediately bumped into something solid and warm and wearing...shit.

“Adler.” Draco Malfoy’s smooth voice sneered. “Ever watch where you’re going? Or maybe you need some glasses like that nitwit friend of yours, Potter.”

Disgust filled me as I took in Malfoy's pale form stood in front of me, his black suit nearly impossibly clean and smooth. His silver hair just brushed the tops of his years, though it was slicked back into a bit of a quiff, and his eyes, ever the color of a stormy winter sea, surveyed me as I righted myself.

Crabbe and Goyle snickered from behind him like the goons they were, and my face bloomed with embarrassment. Of course this is who I had to run into. Malfoy and I had never gotten along; I had been the subject of many of his insults and snide remarks and tricks over the past six years. I wasn’t sure whether it was because I was friends with Harry, or something else entirely, but Malfoy had always had it out for me. Sometimes, it seemed that he hated me more than he despised Harry.

“Malfoy.” My voice was packed with contempt as I straightened up and looked into his frigid eyes. “My apologies, I wouldn't want to ruin your precious suit you probably stole out of your father’s closet. Tell me, was it right next to his Death Eater robes?”

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed, and he clenched his jaw. “You filthy mudblood.”

Gasps came from Cho and Cedric, who were now standing behind me.

“I may be a mudblood, but at least my parents aren’t murderers like yours,” I fired back, my breath ragged in my chest. No one had ever called me that. I didn’t even know how he knew who my parents were, and though I had only become familiar with that slur in recent years, I already knew how horrific it was to use it against anyone, what it really, truly meant.

Malfoy stepped forward, leaning his head down so that his lips were next to my ear. His thin frame had become taught with muscle over the summer, and the woody scent of his cologne floated in the air around him, filling my nose and throat, making me feel like I was choking. In a quiet voice, one that nobody else could hear, he whispered, “I know awful things about your parents as well, Adler. I’d watch your tongue.” He smirked as I froze, his eyes staring into my own with a wild intensity, and pushed past me, knocking me into Cho.

I stood there stunned for a moment, unable to move. He knew about my parents, though I had only ever told Harry about them. Dazed, I turned around to face Cho and Cedric, both of their faces etched with worry.

“Elaine, are you okay?” Cho asked, reaching out to rest her hand on my arm. I nodded softly, and she pursed her lips. Though neither of them asked, I knew they were curious about what Malfoy had said, and I also knew there was no way in hell that I'd ever repeat his words to anyone. 

“Don’t listen to that git, okay? He’s just a pathetic excuse for a wizard who has nothing better to do than to terrorize others to make himself feel better about his own miserable life,” Cedric assured me, smiling gently. “Can we walk you back to your compartment?”

I shook my head. “No, it’s alright. I can manage.”

Really, I wasn't sure if I could, but I needed to be alone, needed to get out of this situation before it became unbearable. 

Cho looked like she was about to protest, but I turned before she could say anything. The walk back to my friends was short, and my brain was racing with thoughts of Malfoy and my parents. I hadn’t realized how shocked and numb my face had turned until I slid open the door, and everyone’s faces dropped with worry as they stopped laughing at whatever joke had just been told.

“Elaine, what happened?” Hermione sat me down between her and Harry and put her arm around me, her soft pink sweater tickling my cheek as I leaned into her, letting myself relax the smallest bit. 

“I ran into Malfoy in the hallway, that's all.” Everyone winced as I spoke. My voice was soft, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at anyone as they all shared worried glances that I'm sure they didn't know I could see, but I could. I saw every one of _those_ glances people had ever shared about me. 

Cho and Cedric had decided to trail me, and they appeared at the door of the compartment that was still hanging open. "She didn't just run into him, he called her a-a," Cho began, her face rosy with anger, and Cedric's eyes were rather icy as well. 

"That fucking git called her a mudblood," Cedric said, his voice stony and cold. 

Everyone gasped, Hermione's arm tightening around me. I felt anger rise in me, but not at Malfoy this time. At Cho, at Cedric, who felt that they had the right to tell anyone else what that foul excuse for a human had called me. Angry that now, everyone knew. 

Harry put his hand on my leg, just above my knee, and warmth shot through me; I could feel his callused hands burning hot even through my black pants. “He’s an idiot. You can’t pay attention to anything that he says, okay?”

I nodded, and ran my hand through my dark hair, catching on some knots before I sighed. “Sorry, I don’t know why I let it get to me.”

Cedric let out a snort. "Just like you to apologize for getting upset at someone calling you an awful name, Adler. Y'know, it's alright to be upset." 

_No, it wasn't._ I just shrugged my shoulders in response, not wanting to continue this line of conversation. 

Hermione hugged me gently, and rubbed my back. “It’s alright. He’ll get what’s coming to him eventually. He’s such a git, someone’s bound to punch him in the face one of these days.”

“You mean again?” Ron piped up and everyone burst out laughing, Hermione’s face reddening. He reached over and patted her knee. “It’s okay. He deserved it.”

No one else but me saw Hermione's face flush and her shoulders tense up when Ron touched her. Cho and Cedric exchanged pleasantries with the group before heading off to their compartment, hands clasped tightly. 

With the mood lightening, everyone went back to their conversations, but I just leaned my head on Hermione’s shoulder and listened, sadness and numbness still rippling through me.

The rest of the train ride was uneventful, and once we arrived, everyone began getting off and making their way to the castle, the compartments of the train bustling with shouts and laughter and the sound of trunks being hauled off. I couldn’t find my trunk for a bit, so Harry offered to stay behind with me, and once I found my belongings, we got in the last carriage, the other students already well on their way to the castle. The night was pleasantly cool, and the leaves crunched beneath the wheels as we rode up the trail.

“Elaine,” Harry’s voice made me stop looking at the dark trees and I turned toward him. “I know the others don’t understand why what Malfoy said bothered you so much. If you want to talk about it, I’m here to listen.” His kind green eyes searched my own as I took a breath.

“I just don’t know how he knows about them. You’re the only person I’ve ever told…” I glanced down at my hands nervously. I hadn’t even told Hermione or Ron that my parents were Muggles. I had never told them anything about my life outside of Hogwarts, and occasionally, I felt guilt creeping through me as I thought about how little they knew about me _really_ , but it was for the best.

At least, that's what I had told myself over and over until I believed it. 

“You can’t think I told him?” Harry questioned, his voice alarmed.

“No, no, of course not. I just…” I searched for the right words. “I know that I have no control over who my parents are or what they do, it’s just so embarrassing that anyone else knows, you know?” I looked at the long, almost faded scar that traveled from the crease of my elbow to my thin wrist. “It feels like this awful secret that if anyone knew, they would think of me differently.”

Harry reached for my hand and encircled it with his own. “I get it. You know I do. You think I’m proud of my living situation, either? I live with some of the most selfish, entitled assholes the Muggle world has to offer. I know it’s difficult, but you really do just have to shrug it off. It doesn’t matter who your parents are. You are one of the brightest, kindest, most talented witches I have ever met.” He squeezed my hand tightly. “I am proud to call you my friend, Elaine Adler.”

My breath caught as my eyes met his, and for a moment, I couldn’t think. Over the summer, his hair had gotten a bit longer, his face had become more defined, and his shoulders and chest were broad and muscular. I could understand why so many girls fancied him.

I smiled softly and gave his hand a squeeze in return. “I’m proud to call the famous Harry Potter my friend too.”

Harry rolled his eyes and let go of my hand to hit my knee gently. “Oh, shut up.”

I giggled as our carriage rolled to a stop in front of Hogwarts. We hopped down, and walked into the Great Hall together, smiling at each other, at the fact that we were finally home.

The sorting this year took longer than I could ever remember it taking, probably due to the fact that I could feel Malfoy’s gaze shooting into my back. I was sat with Luna, Cho, and Cedric at the Ravenclaw table, and Hermione, Ron, and Harry were sat at the Gryffindor table next to us. I tried to tune into the conversation my friends were having, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what Malfoy and Harry had said earlier, about the two wildly different boys that had become such large parts of my life in such incredibly different ways. 

As the hat called out, “Ravenclaw!” my mind wandered to my own sorting. Five years ago, I was just a scared 1st year, standing with all the other nervous kids waiting to be sorted. I had already met Cho on the train, and I stood next to her as we waited for our names to be called out. I couldn't remember a time I had been more anxious and filled with dread as the long list of students was read. Finally, Mcgonagall called out, “Elaine Adler!”

I made my way up to the stool, and the hat was placed on my head, the heavy brown fabric dipping low over my eyes. 

“Interesting…” it mused. “I see much yearning for knowledge, but I also see much darkness and secrecy in you. You want more than anything to prove you are more than how your parents see you.”

“Darkness?” I questioned.

“Mm, yes, darkness, little one. You have led a difficult life. You would be a good fit in Slytherin, with all your ambition and cunning. I see how you used your parent’s weaknesses against them.”

I didn’t know much about Slytherin besides what Cho had said about them on the train earlier that day. Apparently, that was the house every single evil witch or wizard had come from, and that everyone but those in Slytherin viewed it with large amounts of contempt and fear.

“Not Slytherin, please, anything but that.” I begged quietly, looking out into the crowd and seeing Cho’s anxious face scanning my own.

“You would do incredibly well in Slytherin...their cunning would foster your own...perhaps even help you against your parents…” It thought a moment longer, and my heart was pounding with nerves.

“RAVENCLAW!” The Sorting Hat’s loud voice made me jump, and McGonagall took the hat off my head. The Ravenclaw table erupted with applause, and I made my way down the steps to join them, Cho's beaming face shining at me as I sat down.

The sorting finally finished with one more girl being sorted into Slytherin, and with a few very odd words from Dumbledore, the feast was on. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until the warm, fall food popped onto the trays before me. Grabbing ladleful of the pumpkin soup that was in front of me, and some bread and juice, I began eating what was my first real, good meal in months, and though my stomach protested at the first taste of such rich food, I was determined to eat my fair share. The chatting died down slightly as everyone began eating, and I noticed Harry looking up at me from his table. Our eyes met, and I could’ve sworn that his face turned slightly pink before Ron said something and he turned to talk to him. I smiled down at my food, and Cho noticed and gave me a slight nudge to the side.

“If I didn’t know better, I would say that you have a crush on someone,” she teased.

My heart had stopped when she noticed, but she hadn’t noticed it was Harry, so I let out a small breath. “What can I say? It’s been a while.” I smiled slightly.

“Yeah, your last crush was--” Cho squealed as I clapped my hand over her mouth.

“Keep it down, will you?” I whispered, glancing over at where Cedric sat on the other side of Cho.

For a very, very brief moment at the beginning of last year, I had thought I had feelings for Cedric, and I had confided in Cho about them. The crush lasted all of a month and a half, before I noticed the longing glances Cho and Cedric threw at each other every single class we had together. Besides, I attributed that little crush to how much time Cedric and I spent together. I realized what I thought was a romantic love was really just a platonic love, and I think that Cedric and I both view each other as siblings, and nothing more.

That's what I had told Cho. I really had realized that I was the last sort of girl Cedric, or anyone could ever want, and I had no interest in getting invested just to get used and left behind like always. 

Since then, I hadn’t really had anyone who had caught my eye, and our fifth year was also incredibly difficult, seeing as we had to prepare for the O.W.L.s. I wasn’t bothered that I didn’t have anyone, quite honestly. I’d always been just fine on my own.

Dinner ended, and with extremely full bellies and very tired eyes, we all made our ways to our respective common rooms. I trudged out of the hall with Cho and Hermione, as we had somehow lost the boys. As we filed through the great doors and to the staircases, I noticed Draco’s eyes once again following me as I continued walking. I met his gaze, and he didn’t seem fazed at all. Instead, he leaned over to Blaise Zabini, pointed a pale, ringed finger at me, and they both began snickering as I walked past. Hermione noticed and shot an angry glare at them before grabbing my arm and pulling me past Malfoy and his goons.

Malfoy had always hated me, but this year it seemed like it was heightened, and I had no idea why. Last year, we had only one class together, as well as exams, so he wasn’t able to torment me to his usual level, and I assumed that maybe he’d matured a little bit. I laughed to myself at that ridiculous idea as Cho and I said goodnight to Hermione, and walked to the Ravenclaw dormitory. Cho answered the riddle almost immediately, to no one’s surprise, and the door swung open to reveal the familiar, cozy common room full of soft chairs and books and tables. There were a few people milling about, so Cho and I made our way to our shared room with Luna, Padma Patil, and Lisa Turpin. The three of us weren’t close with the two other girls in our year, but they were nice enough and we had all gotten along quite well over the years.

Luna was off doing whatever she got up to at night, and Padma and Lisa were already asleep, so Cho and I took off our robes, changed into our pajamas, and I sat on the floor by the edge of her bed as she offered to plait my hair. It was such a small thing, but Cho knew how much it meant to me. My unruly hair, so dark brown it was almost black, had never behaved for me and caused me a lot of frustration, especially my first year at Hogwarts. My mother had never bothered to teach me how to do my hair, and it was quite apparent. Our first night there, I had nearly cried while trying to tame it, and Cho had offered to comb through it and twist it into a plait so that I could sleep with it away from my face. It had become a sort of tradition, even though I could take care of my hair fairly well now, that whenever I was upset she would do my hair and we would talk.

I sat with my back against her bed, and her nimble fingers began to untangle my hair. “I’m sorry about what Malfoy said. You didn’t deserve that.” Cho said softly.

Shrugging, I began picking at my nails. “It isn’t a big deal. He’s always been an asshole to me. I shouldn’t let it get to me like that.” True, but more difficult than I made it sound.

Cho paused for a moment, and then continued. “Is it...true? Y’know, what he called you.”

I stiffened, and Cho immediately began to apologize but I stopped her. “Y-yeah, um, yeah it is. Neither of my parents are magic. They don’t even know that I go here.”

“What do you mean, they have no idea? How could they not know where you are?” Cho asked, her fingers deftly plaiting my thick hair.

“I dunno. They’ve never asked. I guess they just assume I go to the same boarding school they used to ship me off to every year.” Talking about family stuff had always been extremely uncomfortable for me, but maybe it was time I opened up a bit to Cho about it. After all, she was one of my closest friends.

I cleared my throat.“My parents are...not the best. They’ve never really cared much about where I go or what I do, as long as I’m not in their way.” I left out what happened when I did get in their way, but I figured Cho wouldn’t want to hear something so awful.

Cho finished up my plait, and pulled me up on the bed ‘til I was sitting side by side with her. She grabbed my face in both her dainty hands, and looked at me with a fierceness I had never seen from her before. “Your parents do not define you. You are worth so much more than you believe, that they tell you you are worth. You have been such a wonderful friend these past five years. I know that there are some things you aren’t telling me,” her eyes glanced ever so quickly to the scar on my arm, the faint bruises lining my knees, “and I will never ask you about them. Just know that I love you and that I am always here for you. Okay?”

I swallowed back tears and nodded, not trusting my voice to not break. She smiled at me, then pushed me playfully. “Go get some sleep Adler. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”


	2. Open Mouths Catch Flies--and Detention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (edited)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No content warnings! Enjoy:)

Long day was right. It was the first day of classes, and all the sixth years had to meet up with their Head of House to determine if they could take the classes they wanted based on their O.W.L. score. I was hoping I did well enough on mine to continue with Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, while Cho and Hermione were both hoping to continue with Transfiguration and History. It made me a bit sad that they would have more classes with each other than with me, but we would still see each other a fair amount.

My meeting with Flitwick went incredibly well, and I was going to be able to continue with my desired classes. Cho, Hermione, and I chatted about our results all the way down to breakfast, all relatively pleased with them, though of course Hermione was being incredibly harsh on herself.

“I could’ve done much better than I did, if I had just studied a bit more!” She exclaimed frustratedly, and Cho and I shared a look.

“Hermione, you spent every waking moment last year studying. You did great,” I assured her. “You’re probably the smartest girl at Hogwarts, with two exceptions.” I joked, pointing at Cho and myself.

We had just rounded the corner into the hallway just outside of the Great Hall, when a painfully familiar voice said, “I hope you weren’t referring to yourself, Adler. You’re about as stupid as it gets.” The three of us stopped in our tracks as Draco Malfoy, the boy who had been practically my sworn enemy since our first year, came into view. He was, as always, a cold, stony picture of perfection; his eyes were the silver of a sharp knife, his cheekbones and nose high and elegant, his skin paler than the snow that fell every winter and covered the castle. There was something different about him this year, something...stronger, more confident, something that made me feel like his eyes on me were sucking the air out of my lungs.

“Excuse me?” I replied, my voice a mix of anger and confusion, my nails digging into my palm at my side. 

“You heard me, Adler. You’re about as bright as a rock. I’ve seen your scores in Potions before.” Malfoy drawled, leaning back against the stone, his dark robes blowing gently in the light breeze. 

My face flushed an angry red, and my hands were shaking with frustration. “I’ll have you know, I passed that portion of my O.W.L.s just fine, according to Flitwick.”

Malfoy barked a laugh. “Anything is impressive to that imbecile. I wouldn’t brag too much about it. Besides, it’s going to be much harder this year. I doubt your little Muggle self will be able to keep up.” He pushed off the wall and walked closer to where I was standing, with Cho and Hermione a step behind. “I’ll say this slowly, so that even you can understand me.” Malfoy said, his voice dripping with a sickly sweet sarcasm. He towered now, I noticed, a good six inches over me. _When did he get so damn tall_? “You don’t fucking belong here. Every breath you take in this castle is an absolute waste.” His icy eyes scanned my face, waiting for his words to sink in, searching for any sign of hurt to flash in my eyes.

My nails dug so hard into my hand that I was sure they were going to leave a mark, the pain focusing my thoughts. I opened my mouth to give a reply right as Professor Slughorn, the newest professor to join's Hogwarts' staff, rounded the corner. “Is there something wrong, my dear?”

Malfoy feigned innocence, tilting his head to one side. “Is there?” Though his face was calm, I could see the hatred in his eyes. His hands slid into his pockets, his stature radiating ease, though the air between us was filled with anything but. 

I knew if I said there was, Malfoy would win, and would hold it over my head probably until the day I died, would bitch about how I was a coward, weak. “No, sir. Just talking about the O.W.L. results is all.”

Malfoy’s eyes glared at me, shooting daggers into me, but Slughorn replied, “Ah, yes, you're Ms. Adler, aren't you? I was just speaking to Severu-uh, Professor Snape, about your scores. I hope you’re pleased with your results, Ms. Adler, because I certainly was very impressed. I am very much looking forward to having you in my class! You as well, Mr. Malfoy. I think I can speak for all of the professors when I say you did very well indeed.” He clapped a meaty hand on Malfoy’s shoulder before heading on his merry way, oblivious to the tension between the four of us.

I couldn’t help the surprise that blossomed in me. I had no idea Malfoy was even capable of exerting effort when it came to school; the way that he constantly skipped classes and verbally berated teachers suggested otherwise. 

“I don’t care what that fat idiot says. Stay out of my way.” He glanced me up and down, making me squirm under his intense gaze. His eyes caught the worn hem of my shirt, the way that my skirt was just slightly too short because of my growth over the summer. “Parents didn’t have enough money for new clothes this year? Or could they just not be bothered?”

_Fucking prick._

Hermione stepped slightly in front of me, her face cold as she regarded Malfoy. “Shut it, Malfoy. Money doesn’t mean anything. It did make you an absolute asshole, though. Bet your daddy is proud you pick on innocent people, just like he does.”

Malfoy scoffed. “Sweet that you Mudbloods look out for each other. Nice crowd you run with, Cho.” He turned on his heel and headed out the doors to the courtyard beyond, his strides long, his hands still tucked in his pockets.

They both turned to me. “Elaine, are you okay?” Hermione asked softly, her brow furrowed with concern.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I snapped, already becoming very fed up with Malfoy and the target he constantly had on my back. Bitterness swirled through me, suddenly erasing the previous hunger that had grumbled in my stomach. “I’m not hungry anymore. Eat without me.” Both Cho and Hermione’s faces fell, and I felt a twinge of guilt before turning and making my way outside as well, wanting nothing more than to just be alone for a few moments. 

I stalked to the lake, frustration growing at every footstep. Sitting down beside the tree that had become so familiar to me, I angrily wiped my face and stared out at the calm, blue water, the waves lapping gently at the sand that bordered it. I truly did not understand why Malfoy hated my guts; Hermione was Muggle-born as well, and he didn’t seem to despise her nearly as much as me. I had never been kind to him, true, but I had never gone out of my way to antagonize him like he did to me. Over the years, he had said some quite unkind things, but nothing about my family or blood until this year. Where had he even learned all of that? I didn’t doubt he would go to extreme lengths to torment me, but that seemed excessive even for him.

I let a few minutes pass to gather myself, the September air cooling my flushed cheeks and calming my pounding heartbeat. Telling myself that this year I wouldn't let Malfoy get to me like he always did, I sighed then stood up, wiped the sand off my robes, and made my way back into the castle to go to my first lesson of the day, Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Which, of course, I had with Slytherin.

Walking into the class, I spotted Luna sitting by herself. I rushed over and took the seat, breathing out a soft, “Hey,” before Snape glided into the room, his dark cloaks swirling behind him.

“In years past, this class has been taught by a parade of woefully underqualified teachers who had little interest in actually teaching you what you need to know.” Snape’s nasally voice droned, and I could tell I would be fighting sleep most days. Defense Against the Dark Arts had been my favorite subject since the very first day, even though Quirrell had been utterly boring, and, horrifically, somehow Voldemort's vessel. Though coming to Hogwarts having no previous knowledge that magic existed, it was easy to learn that there was nothing that couldn't happen at the castle, especially where Harry Potter was involved. 

A crumpled piece of paper hit the side of my head as Snape turned around to write something on the board. Confusion twisted my face, and I opened it. On it was a moving drawing of me getting knocked off my broom during a Quidditch match in a quite unpleasant and rather violent manner. Underneath was the title: _Watch your back, Adler._

The drawing was unnervingly realistic and I already had a solid idea who the prick of an author was. 

“Passing notes in class, Ms. Adler?” Snape was suddenly standing by my desk, looking over his large nose at the wrinkled paper I held.

“No, sir, someone threw it--” I started.

“Five points from Ravenclaw, Ms. Adler. Next time, it’s detention.” Snape whisked back to the front of the classroom, and I heard snickering behind me as my face flushed bright red.

An hour and a half later, I stormed out of the classroom to find Malfoy. He was filing out, talking with his oaf of a friend, Crabbe, when I found him. I blocked his path, my hands curled into fists, one holding his note. 

“What the fuck is your problem, Malfoy?” I demanded, crossing my arms in front of me.

Malfoy gestured Crabbe to go ahead, then turned back to me. “No clue what you’re talking about, Adler,” He responded, his voice full of boredom and disinterest. 

“You threw that fucking paper. Don’t play dumb. You’re the only person in this entire school that hates me that much.” I still had the paper crumpled in my hand, and I unfurled my fist, showing the threatening piece of parchment.

“Huh. Whoever drew this is a wonderful artist. Dunno why they'd waste such talent on a worthless bitch like you,” He drawled, snatching the paper out of my hand and turning it as if he were examining an expensive piece of art. Malfoy was calm, relaxed, and that caused annoyance to bubble up in my chest as it so often did with the pale Slytherin in front of me.

“Look, I don’t know what your problem is, and I don’t know what damn hole you crawled out of that made you so fucking awful, but it would be in your best interest if you would leave me the hell alone this year. I'm sick of your shit," I snapped.

Malfoy crossed his arms. “Oh, how terrifying," Malfoy leered. "Threatening me, are you, Adler? Pretty ballsy for a Ravenclaw. I wonder what Professor Snape would think.”

“You don’t need to go running off to your little professor and tattle on me like a child. Let’s just stay away from each other, okay?” I took a deep breath to calm myself down. “I don’t know what the hell I did to make you hate me so much, but I suggest you get over it so we don't have to deal with each other anymore.” Good, let’s be the bigger person. That always works out best, right?

I was so very wrong.

Malfoy feigned thinking for a few moments before thinking. “I was going to consider your offer. Then you insulted me. I guess Muggles don't teach manners, do they?" Malfoy shook his head. "How unfortunate." He turned and walked back into the classroom, calling out as he entered. “Professor Snape?”

_Great going, Elaine._

Detention was bad enough, but detention with Snape? No one enjoyed that, not even Slytherin. After Malfoy had tattled on me like the child that he is, Snape scolded me in the terrifyingly calm way that he had perfected over the years, telling me that my rude behavior would not be tolerated, and I was to meet him in his classroom later that night. After classes, my mood was so bad that during dinner I barely ate anything, my stomach sour with disdain for both Malfoy and Professor Snape. My friends were sharing very obvious, worried glances, and they finally suggested we go out and walk around the grounds for a while before I had to go to detention.

Harry, Hermione, Ron, and I headed out to the grounds, leaving Cedric and Cho behind to “study”. The air was biting cold, and even our scarves barely held back the chill that seemed to seep into my bones as we walked, and my friends curled their shoulders to shield from the sharp wind, but I embraced the cold, having missed the feeling after such a long and sweltering summer.

“Listen,” I began, picking bits of grass up from next to where I was sitting and tearing them up, “I love Cho and Cedric, but---”

“The PDA? Merlin’s beard, it’s enough to make me gag!” Ron interrupted, sending all of us into a fit of giggles. “Seriously. Do they have to kiss each other every single time one of them leaves or comes back?” He made a disgusted face, and I glanced at Hermione, who's face was warm with the evidence of her crush on our friend.

“C’mon, Ron, you can’t tell us there isn’t a girl you’d love to be doing that with?” I teased, shoving his shoulder with mine.

Ron’s ears flared bright red and he coughed, shocked by my question. “I mean, uh, I guess, but uh--”

“Aw, little Ron-Ron’s got a little crush on someone,” Harry called out in a sing-song voice. “C’mon mate, tell us who! Friends don’t keep secrets.” 

I could practically see Hermione’s nerves as Ron tried to speak, but the chime of the clocktower stopped him.

“Shit!” Both Harry and I exclaimed.

"You too?"

Harry nodded grimly. "Wouldn't want to break my streak of getting detention in the first week, would I?"

"You're ridiculous," I stated. 

"Little hypocritical, aren't we? As I recall, you got detention too," Harry joked. 

I shoved him. “Not for a good reason, git.”

Harry grinned. “Hey, mine’s with Snape, too, so at least we can suffer together.”

I didn’t want to admit it, but the thought of being alone with him made my heart race faintly, a new, but not unpleasant sensation. We said goodbye to Hermione and Ron, and made our way to detention.

We barely made it on time, but we made it. Snape had us cleaning out old desks in his new classroom, which was about as fun as watching paint dry.

“So,” I said as I scraped yet another piece of chewing gum off the desk, “are we going to talk about Ron and Hermione?”

Harry froze. “What about them?” He asked, trying not to seem suspicious, and failing miserably.

“Oh, just the fact that they absolutely both fancy each other, but they’re too afraid to say it,” I tossed out nonchalantly.

“Hermione likes Ron?” Harry said, stopping his cleaning of the top of the desk, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Yes, and you’re both idiots for not seeing it by now. She looks at him every chance she gets! He does the same.” I replied, turning towards him. I rested my hand on the desk and put my weight on one leg to give the other some rest from the standing I’d been doing. “I think they would be a wonderful couple.” 

“You don’t think it would be weird?” Harry asked, his green eyes intently studying my own.

“Do you?” I countered, suddenly very interested in my nails.

I couldn’t see it, but Harry was grinning. “No, I don’t think it would.”

Snape’s voice sent a bolt of fear down my spine as he spoke from behind me. “Less talking about Granger and Weasley’s disturbing love life, and more cleaning, or it'll be another detention for both of you," His nasally voice droned. 

He walked away, and Harry and I stared at each other in fright before bursting into a fit of laughter.

"So, what did you do to get detention anyways?" Harry asked as he went back to scrubbing a dark ink stain on the surface of the desk. 

I sighed. "Malfoy was being an asshole, as usual, and I told him to leave me alone, and he thought I was threatening him, the stupid git."

Harry snorted. "God, what a fucking dick. Is he still being awful to you?"

"Of course he is. I would be concerned if he _wasn't_. That would mean something really wild was going on."

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I know how hard it gets sometimes with him," Harry told me. "But who knows, maybe this year will be different." 

I laughed. "Yeah, and maybe I'll grow horns and a tail." 

"Now that would be a sight to see," Harry exclaimed, reaching over for more cleaning solution, his worn grey shirt lifting up as he did, exposing his sharp hipbone. My cheeks flushed and I quickly looked away, the image of his newly muscular torso stuck in my mind as I worked. 


	3. Is Being Saved by Your Enemy Worth Having to Thank Them?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (edited)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight content warnings for very brief depiction of injuries. Enjoy!

I was standing at the bathroom sink, looking at my reflection, trying to calm my nerves before my first Quidditch match of the year. I supposed I looked a bit different than I did last year. My body had filled out, giving me the tiniest bit of curve, though nothing like Cho. My dark hair was now down to the middle of my back, and it was a lot more controlled than it had been in years past. My face had grown more sharp, my nose being the only rounded feature I had now. My eyes were dark, and I wondered if sometimes people ever admired their speckled color. Every time I blinked, my dark lashes flashed and I had the faintest hint of tan freckles kissing my nose. I was nearly all skin and bones, like I was every two or three months after the summer ended, and looking at the way my collar bones protruded or the way my fingers seemed like they could break at any moment made a sour taste permeate my mouth. I saw Cho approaching in the mirror, and I turned around to greet her. 

“Admiring yourself, Adler?” She joked, smiling at me.

“Something like that.” I shrugged nonchalantly, and turned to fix my hair into a ponytail, smoothing back the unruly hairs that kept popping up, ignoring the way my arms groaned with the effort as it took a few minutes to tame it enough that I didn't look like I had just gone through a wind tunnel.

I could see Cho looking at me in the mirror, a look of slight confusion on her face. “What?” I asked, a hair grip slightly warping my speech. 

“You mean you seriously can’t see it?” Cho asked, stepping closer so she was just over my shoulder. “I can name at least six boys who can barely keep their eyes off you.”

Surprise rang through me, and I fought the smile that threatened to paint my lips. Ever so casually, I asked, “Anyone in particular?” 

Cho gave me a look, and said, "I thought you didn't fancy anyone." Her eyes held a gleam of humor even as her face was inquisitive. 

I shook my head, finishing up my hair. "I don't, but I dunno, kind of nice that someone might like me. Who ever says no to attention?" I joked, turning around to face her, my arms dropping down to my sides. 

"You're ridiculous," Cho said, poking my side and making me yelp. "C'mon, we've got a match to go to if you're done admiring yourself."

I snorted and followed her out of the bathroom, adrenaline beginning to course through my veins. 

I had never seen so much rain in my entire life. I could barely see three feet ahead of me, and my hair was already soaked and dripping freezing water down my back as we waited for the match to begin. I glanced at Cedric, who gave me a wicked grin, then over where Malfoy was gripping his broom, his pale hair slightly curling from the water. His robes clung to his broad shoulders, and down his torso, outlining his firm body that lay underneath. Last I had seen Malfoy, he still had a boy's body, and not that I was looking now, but it seemed that over the summer he had developed lean muscles, finally filling out his draping robes. The rain made his uniform cling to his body in a very revealing way, and I found myself struggling to look away from the way the water dripped off his angular jaw. As my eyes traveled up to his, I saw him staring right at me staring at him. _Fuck._

I quickly moved my gaze anywhere else. _He’s a_ _dick_ , I reminded myself as revulsion filled me at the thought of him. I furrowed my brow, and Cedric elbowed me, mouthing, _You alright?_ Nodding in response, I gripped the handle of my broom fiercely, and with the blow of a whistle, the match was underway. 

We shot into the air in a blur of blue and green, and Malfoy and Cho immediately peeled away to search for the Snitch. The rain felt as hard as ice as it pelted me and the thirteen other players now dancing in the air, my hands already having gone numb and making the grip on my handle slippery with moisture. As a Beater, my job was dangerous, and as the only female Beater, even more so, as there tended to be a massive target on my back regardless of who we were playing. Adding on the lovely note Malfoy had given me yesterday, my heart was racing much faster than usual, though the feeling of adrenaline, of excitement, was nearly addicting. I had never shied from danger, because at least it actually made me _feel_ something. It was one of the reasons I chose to become a Beater rather than a Seeker or a Chaser; there was something about being in control of such danger that made me feel incredibly alive. 

I heard the noise before I saw it as I tailed two of my Chasers, and whirled around to deflect the Bludger heading Cedric’s way as he raced towards the goal post, Quaffle in hand. My bat hit it with a resounding _crack_ and it soared in the other direction, earning me a thank you from Cedric right before he scored the first point of the game. Vaguely, I thought I saw Ron, Harry, and Hermione down in the crowd, and I grinned at them before taking off again. 

The match went on, the rain freezing my hands to my broom, my skin completely drenched and covered in goosebumps. Not a single sight of the Snitch yet, and Slytherin was ahead. Sitting on my broom looking for Bludgers, I noticed Cho and Malfoy both take off, diving towards the ground just underneath me. I dropped into my own dive, following behind to save Cho in case a Bludger was hit her way by the opposing team. The air whipped my face as I dove, the rain stinging at it bit at my skin. I finally reached Cho’s side, Malfoy just a foot behind. I could hear a Bludger coming up behind me, and by the sound of it, it seemed as though it was tailing me and not Cho. I shook my head to clear the rain from my face, telling myself I was most likely being confused by the extreme weather. I was nearing Cho and Malfoy now, having ducked as the aforementioned Bludger shot past my head close enough that I felt the air change next to my face. I didn't lend it any thought, my only focus protecting Cho so we could end this game and get out of the freezing rain. 

That familiar buzzing sounded neared again, and I saw the Bludger turn as if it had hit something midair and bolt back in my direction, heading straight for me. I panicked slightly, not usually on the receiving end of the dangerous ball. It moved faster than my brain could process, and before I could move out of the way, I saw a flash of blond hair out of my peripheral vision before something hard slammed solidly into my broom, hitting me so hard that I lost my grip on the slippery handle and careened towards the soggy ground. 

The impact on the muddy ground was not as soft as I thought, as the breath was forced out of my lungs and a pain sparked up my left arm. The rain soaked my robes as I lay there, unable to pull a full breath of air into my damaged lungs, water filling my mouth and nose as I gasped. The last thing my addled brain could make out before spotty darkness consumed me was footsteps racing towards me, distant shouts calling out something that might've been my name. 

When I woke up in the hospital tower, it was dark out, and the rain had softened to a gentle drizzle. My eyes were puffy, and my back ached where I had hit the ground. Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s faces peered over me as I winced at the bright light above me. Hermione let out a sigh of relief, and a bit of color bloomed back into Ron’s worried face. 

My throat felt dry, so my voice was scratchy as I asked, “Did we win?” 

The three standing by my bed let out soft laughter, and Harry smoothed my hair back where it had fallen over my face in an oddly sweet, gently gesture. “Yeah, yeah, you won Adler. Nearly scared us to death, though.”

Anger blossomed in my chest as I remember why, _who_ was the reason I was in this white hospital bed in the first place. “I cannot believe Malfoy! I mean, I know he hates me, but knocking me off my broom is a whole new level of crazy. And in front of the entire school, as well." 

Hermione glanced at Ron and Harry before speaking. “Actually, Elaine, Malfoy probably saved your life. Everyone knows you’re an excellent player, and the rain was really heavy, but the Bludger nearly hit your head. Would’ve, if he hadn’t hit your broom.” Her voice was soft, almost shy. 

I waited for the laughter that I was sure would follow. It didn’t come. “Come on, funny joke. Really, what happened?” 

Ron spoke up. “Lainy, Hermione’s right. The Bludger was on a dead course for your head. It was like it was cursed or something.” He shivered, no doubt envisioning what could’ve happened. “He ran off right after the match ended, even though McGonagall and Flitwick tried to find him.” 

I shook my head in disbelief, pain pounding in my skull as I did, and I stopped, wincing. “God, I must've hit my head harder than I thought. There's no way it was actually Malfoy.” 

Harry winced. “No offense, 'Lainy, but no one understands why he did it, either. McGonagall and Hooch both said that some kind of spell was on that Bludger to target you, but they don’t know who did it.” 

Silence enveloped us as we all puzzled over the game’s events, but it didn’t last long, as Madam Pomfrey shooed the three of them out of the hospital wing, claiming I needed a lot of rest to heal my three broken ribs and sprained wrist. She assured me I would feel right as rain tomorrow morning, but that I needed to stay overnight just in case I started showing signs of a concussion. 

On her way out, she shut off the lights, leaving me to lay in darkness while I tried to ignore the pain every time I took a breath. If it didn’t hurt so bad, I would’ve sworn it was a dream. There is no way on earth the Draco Malfoy would ever save anybody’s life, especially mine; he was far too self-centered and bigoted to do that. Dread hit me as I realized that this meant, in some way, that I was in debt to him. I hated even the very thought of it. My head was pounding terribly, so I closed my eyes, and I drifted off to sleep, still mulling over the match. 

I woke up the next day, Sunday, to bright sunlight streaming through the open window across from my bed. My head was pounding terribly, and taking a full breath was so painful I resorted to taking short gasps of air instead. I was still alone, but there was a note, as well as chocolates on the table beside my bed. The note was short, written in slightly sloppy handwriting, and it read:

_Get better soon. Can’t have Ravenclaw’s brightest out for too long._

There was no name at the bottom of the note, just an x. I turned the paper over, but there was nothing on the back, either. The mysteries just kept coming this weekend. 

Madam Pomfrey cleared me early that morning, with the warning that I needed to be more careful, and to not overdo it for the next week to allow my ribs time to heal. Tucking the note in my pocket and the chocolates under my non-bandaged arm, I made my way slowly to the Ravenclaw common room, my steps gentle from the still-lingering pain in my side. Before I could even make it out of the tower the hospital wing was located in, Malfoy rounded the corner and we collided, knocking me onto my ass. I cried out as pain shot up my ribs, and he grumbled as he brushed himself off and stood up. His clothes were casual, his eyes were still heavy with sleep, and his hair was damp with the aftermath of a shower. 

Looking down at me, Malfoy snorted at my appearance, which was a bit of a fair response. My hair was probably in a frizzy ring around my face, and my pajama bottoms and top were well worn and frayed in multiple places. 

"Come to gloat at me? Or brag about how you saved my life?" I asked, struggling to my feet, pain rippling through me and making me bite my cheek to stop me from crying out.

"Consider it an extreme lapse of judgement on my part, Adler," Malfoy snapped. "I'm just angry that it's my fault I still have to deal with your pathetic ass. The very least you could do is be grateful." 

I glared at him, annoyance bubbling up in my chest. “You think I could ever be grateful to you? You’ve never been anything but a dick to me since we met. I’d rather you have let me get hit. That would’ve been less painful than saying thank you to someone who doesn’t think I’m worth the space I take up.” I tried not to show the pain I was in, but the short breaths I had to take gave me away. My words were sharp, flung at him with the intention to hurt, and to my surprise, he actually did wince ever so slightly. 

“Someone needs to teach you some manners, Mudblood,” Malfoy growled, and I sucked in a shaky breath, angry adrenaline coursing through my veins. 

“What are you even doing up here anyways, you asshole? I was the only one in the wing.” I asked, purposefully ignoring his horrific insult.

“None of your damn--oh, what’s this?” His eye caught the note that had fluttered out of my pocket when I fell, and he leaned over to pick it up before I could protest. His slender, pale fingers deftly unfolded the note and scanned it, a smirk painting his face. Though his actions were rough, his fingers were gentle handling the note.

“How sweet. You’ve an admirer. ‘Ravenclaw’s brightest?’” His snicker was deep, wicked. “Interesting.” 

“Give it here,” I demanded, stepping forward and reaching for the note, but his large hand encircled my wrist, the cold metal of his ring biting into my skin. I froze, looking up at his stoic face as he held my wrist just above my shoulder in a grip that was just barely tight enough to hurt. We were less than a foot apart, so close that I could feel the heat radiating off his sweater-clad torso. 

“See? You've no manners,” Malfoy scolded, his voice slightly husky. "Or are you just so stupid that you never caught on?"

I gulped, and tried to reply, but my words seemed to fail me. The tension was so thick it felt like I could feel its caress wrapped around our bodies. Our eyes connected, and it felt like his storm-blue gaze was piercing my very soul, and I saw a glimmer, a whisper of _something_ , but suddenly he dropped my wrist like it was burning him and took a quick step back.

Dropping the note back to the ground, Malfoy gave me one last quick glance, and retreated off the landing and down the stairs. I watched his lithe form go, his muscled shoulders apparent even under the thick wool layer of his midnight black sweater that clung to his frame.

The ghost of his pale hand still wrapped around my wrist, and a shiver went through me. Though my ribs protested, I bent down to grab the note Malfoy had so rudely thrown to the ground. What had he been doing up here in the first place? I had been all alone in the infirmary, and the thought of him coming to visit me was so absurd I couldn’t even picture it. 

I looked at my reflection that was encased in the window next to me, the morning sun shining through the glass. I did look rather ridiculous, my hair a mess and my clothes sloppy, and I shook my head, mildly annoyed Malfoy had seen me in such an unfortunate state.


	4. Flirtation Makes Winning Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (edited)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No content warnings! Enjoy

After I had finally made it back to my common room (with no further unpleasant interruptions), I got dressed as well as I could, though lifting my arms above my head was so painful Cho had to help me slip my fitted charcoal sweater over my head. I opted for a pair of well-loved, loose black jeans that my sweater tucked into at the waist and sturdy black boots that Cho also had to help me put on. After we were both dressed, we sat on the big couch in front of the fire in the common room. 

“I’m so happy you’re alright, Lainy. I don’t know what I would do if--” Cho stopped, her throat thick with tears. 

My eyes widened and I grabbed her hand. “Don’t be silly. You can’t get rid of me that easily,” I joked, though I understood why she was upset. I hadn’t let myself think about what the reality of the situation could’ve been, about the fact that I could've easily joined the growing numbers of Hogwarts students that lost their lives playing a school sport. 

She smiled, though her eyes still held tears. “I know, I know. We just were all so scared. I’m sorry I didn’t come visit you last night, too.”

I didn’t even need a reason from her as to why she stayed away. I knew if she had been able to, she would’ve come.

_Wouldn't she?_

I just waved my hand, as if to say it was alright, and she leaned her head on my shoulder. 

“I love you, Lainy.”

“I love you, too. Even though I can hear your stomach rumbling all the way up here.” 

Cho smacked my knee, and we made our way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. 

I hadn’t seen Harry since the night before, and though I would never admit it, as we entered the hall, I glanced around to see if I could see his mop of jet-black hair sitting anywhere. My shoulders slumped slightly when I didn’t spot him, but I followed Cho to where she found an open spot. We ate, talking quietly, and once we were finished, we spent the rest of the day lounging around in the soft green grass of the grounds. The way that Harry had so softly brushed my hair out of my face the night before fluttered in and out of my mind the entire day, my brain trying to hold on to the whisper of his touch against my skin.

Monday marked the third full week of classes, and I was already dreading my Potions lesson later with Slytherin. Luckily, Hermione and Harry had it with me as well, as so few people actually passed that portion of their O.W.L.s last year. My first few classes passed with ease, the workload already piling high, but it was nice to be getting back into the swing of things. Ron and I spent nearly all of McGonagall’s class messing around, giggling as we saw the other students attempt to turn their cups into a variety of poorly misshapen ravens. After lunch, I made my way through the crowded hallways down to the dungeon, my unbound hair bouncing around me as I walked. By the time I finally pushed through all the people and got to the classroom, the only open seat was next to Malfoy, that foul git. 

Harry and Hermione both looked up as I walked in, and they mouthed that they were sorry as I made my way to the back of the class to sit by Malfoy. I made a disgusted face, and Harry let out a laugh he tried to cover with a loud cough. 

He looked at me with disdain as I set my bag down. “Piss off, moron. I don’t want to deal with you today," He grumbled, looking rather annoyed. 

“Likewise Malfoy, but it’s the only seat left, so I guess you’ll just have to act like a big boy and deal with it.” I responded. 

“If I had known I’d be stuck with you all term in so many classes, I wouldn’t have bothered saving your fucking life,” Malfoy muttered under his breath, angrily taking out his parchment and jet-black quill, slamming them on the table. "What a fucking waste of my time."

I winced slightly at the sound, his words sinking in my gut. “Maybe you shouldn’t have then, Malfoy,” I shot back. “Grow up.”

Harry looked over from two tables up and gave me an apologetic face. My heart fluttered at his messy hair and slightly crooked tie, and I just shook my head and gave him a small smile in return. 

Professor Slughorn clapped his hands at the front of the room, and began talking. “Sixth year Potions! This will be your most difficult year yet, but it will be filled with more peculiar things than you have ever encountered before! I hope you’ve chosen your seats wisely, because the student you are sitting next to will be your partner for the remainder of the term.” 

He couldn’t actually mean…

“Sir,” Malfoy’s voice started next to me, “There is no way I can put up with Adler’s sorry attempts at potion-making until Christmas.”

A few snickers sounded around the room, and my cheeks flushed a bright red. 

“Ah, Mr. Malfoy. So like your father...Perhaps, if you don’t think Adler’s skills are up to snuff, you would be inclined to tutor her.” Slughorn suggested, turning his attention back to the class.

“I don’t need a tutor,” I ground out, my teeth clenched. 

“Like I could get anything through that thick skull of yours.” Malfoy retorted, earning a snort from Zabini, who sat at the table to our right. 

I was so angry I was shaking with adrenaline, so angry I could barely hear Slughorn as he told us what page our recipe for the Draught of Living Death was on, and what the prize was for perfecting it. Everyone else began rustling through the pages of their textbooks, and I tried to look at the table next to me to see where they were, but I couldn’t make it out. Something hit my book, and its pages spun til they landed on the one outlining how to make the potion. Surprise bounced in my chest, and I looked around to see the culprit, but everyone was already starting on their assignment. 

We began making the concoction, everyone so focused there was almost complete silence, the ambient sounds of dicing and stirring and pouring filling the air. Everything was going relatively well, until the Sopophorous bean slicing, which seemed to be nearly impossible. Some even began flying through the air as they slipped out from under the knife they were being cut with. My own shot from my knife, earning a vicious snicker from Malfoy and making me crouch down under my table when I saw a strong hand pluck it off the cobblestone floor. My eyes traveled up the arm til my eyes met Harry’s face, who was holding another ingredient he had just retrieved from the storage room, and my heart sped up. 

“Thanks, Potter,” I grinned. “What would I ever do without you?” I teased as I stood up.

My back was pressed lightly against the cold edge of the hip-high table, and Harry moved forward until he was a breath away, his nose nearly touching mine. He reached around to place the Sopophorous bean back on my cutting board, and as he did, he leaned forward to whisper in my ear. 

“Crush, don’t cut. Just trust me.” Harry’s voice was low, smooth, the clean, spiced scent of his shampoo greeting my nose. Panic filled my senses with him so close, my body freezing up. 

I didn’t trust my voice, so I just nodded softly, and he pulled back, a small grin teasing the corners of his mouth. “Good luck, Elaine.” I watched him retreat to his table before unfreezing. Luckily, everyone was so preoccupied with their potions that no one had noticed our exchange. Besides, of course--

“I’m going to be sick,” Malfoy deadpanned, still looking at his bubbling cauldron. 

“Mind your business.” I shot back, though my retort lost much of its fire due to the crimson coloring my face. I placed my knife back over the bean, but pressed down with the flat side of the blade instead. The juice instantly appeared, and I smiled proudly as I dropped it in, the liquid in my cauldron turning a lovely shade of purple. I told myself as the color changed that Harry had only gotten so close so that he could tell me the instruction without anyone else hearing it; part of me, though, the delusion part, didn't want that to be true.

“Three minutes, class!” Slughorn announced from behind his copy of the _Daily Prophet_. Low murmurs of complaints and swears danced around the class, but I felt calm. I began my seven counterclockwise stirs, and as I had almost finished the 7th rotation, Malfoy’s sharp elbow bumped my arm, making my spoon return clockwise. Slughorn was making his way around to check everyone’s progress, and just as I began to snap at Malfoy for once again being a bastard, Slughorn clapped his meaty hands in excitement. 

“I don’t believe it! Ms. Adler’s done it!” 

The class halted their movements as Slughorn dragged me to the front of the class. “As promised, here is one vial of Liquid Luck!” 

I smiled nervously as he handed it to me, just as surprised as everyone else seemed to be. Hermione, her hair frizzy and her eyes still a bit wild, looked at me proudly and Harry gave me a small thumbs up. Malfoy and Zabini were practically burning holes through me with their furious looks, and I felt a bit apprehensive that I had somehow managed to top not only Hermione, but Malfoy and Harry as well. It wasn't as if I weren't good at Potions, because I was, but those three had always stood out amongst our year in the subject, even when Malfoy barely tried at all.

Class ended, and everyone began packing their things, some of them throwing dirty glances my way, and I couldn't blame them. I didn't even know why mine had been the only successful one. Malfoy seemed to be in a mood even sourer than normal, his light brows furrowed with frustration as he stuffed his belongings in his pristine black bag. I was worried that this would make me an even bigger target for him as I walked out of the room, but soon my anxiety was erased as both Harry and Hermione greeted me outside the door. 

Hermione had just started to congratulate me, but Harry swept me up in a giant hug, a massive grin on his face, lifting me so the tips of my shoes barely brushed the stone floor. His hands gripped my lower back, the muscles in his arms shifting with every movement, and I could feel my entire body heating up with a mixture of panic and excitement and I couldn't tell which dominated as I threw my arms around his neck to stabilize myself. After a few moments, Harry let me down, my body sliding ever so lightly against his as he set me back on my feet. With his hands still at my lower back, our eyes met, and I felt my breath catch as he held me so close. His touch sent electricity up my spine, and I was suddenly incredibly aware of just exactly how my body had changed over the summer. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Hermione shifting uncomfortably, so I cleared my throat and quickly stepped back. 

Harry scratched the back of his head nervously. “Well done, mate. I don’t think anyone’s ever seen Slughorn so excited.” 

Hermione nodded her agreement. “I’m incredibly impressed! Not that I didn’t think you couldn’t do it, but even Harry and I had issues and…”

Hermione continued rambling as we started our trek up from the dungeon, complaining that the book didn’t give specific enough instructions about this, or that it didn’t outline clearly how to do that. I glanced over at Harry to see him already looking at me, and I quickly looked away, but not before I noticed the soft smile in his green eyes. 

We said goodbye to Hermione once we reached the ground floor of the castle as she wanted to go look something up in the library about the potion we had just made. She threw me a look that I couldn’t really decipher as she left. Potions had been our last class of the day, so Harry and I made our way to dinner.

“You know, I wouldn’t have won without your tip,” I told Harry as we walked the empty corridors, the autumn sun casting an orange glow through the glass windows. 

“It was mostly you, I just helped you out a bit,” Harry shrugged. “Besides, seeing Malfoy lose in anything is my dream come true. Someone needs to knock him down a peg or two.”

Snorting, I nodded my head. “What an entitled bastard,” I agreed. “Hermione isn’t going to let this go until she does it perfectly, is she?” 

“No, no, she isn’t.” Harry stopped in a little alcove we had been walking by, sitting on the bench and patting the seat next to him. 

I sat myself beside him, the cold of the bench seeping through my robes, and I began picking at my robes to release some of the nervous energy flooding my brain.

Harry looked at me intently. “Are you okay? I mean, after what happened on Saturday. That was…” he took a deep breath, as if to steady himself. “That was really scary.”

Butterflies erupted in my stomach as the thought of him worrying about me hit me. _Of course he worries about you, he’s one of your closest friends,_ my mind fired back. I was foolish to hope, but maybe it had been in a not so friendly way. 

_You're delusional, Elaine._

I shrugged. “You know me, I always get up after getting knocked down. I’m used to it by now.” My words were casual, but my tone was anything but as I glanced down at the pink line running down my forearm. 

Harry noticed my gaze, and he reached out, swiping his thumb once, twice, over it before moving down to grab my hand in his. I was sure my hand was unpleasantly warm, possibly a bit sweaty, but Harry didn’t seem to mind. 

I fought the urge to pull away; not because I minded his touch, but because being so close with someone sent signals firing in my brain saying, _Run, run, get away_. 

“That’s new, isn’t it?” His voice was so soft I could barely hear him over the wind that had begun beating the castle walls. 

Again I shrugged. “It’s fine.” I didn’t trust myself to say anything beyond that, though I’m sure he already knew where it was from; that every time I looked at it I could smell the cheap whiskey, the even cheaper cigarettes. 

Harry turned his body so he was facing me, his strong legs straddling the bench, and I turned as well, leaving my legs in front of me. I didn’t even realize he had lifted his hand until I felt his finger brush my cheek, but instead of dropping his hand back down, Harry kept it splayed on my cheek and I felt like I could barely breathe. My heartbeat was drumming in my ears and I was positive Harry could hear it trying to escape my chest. He leaned forward, so close that I could see the small bits of stubble that were peaking out on his chin and his jaw.

"You know, you look really pretty like this," Harry said softly, igniting a small fire in my belly. "With your hair down, I mean."

"Thank you," I murmured lamely, my only focus on the way his hand felt against my skin.

My eyes searched his, something tantalizing and exciting dancing in his wonderfully familiar eyes, and then we were both leaning in and the wind was howling and my heart was racing and I could feel his breath and I sat there frozen, waiting, waiting, waiting.


	5. Friends Make the Meanest Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (edited)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No content warnings. Bit of a long chapter, so enjoy:)

Harry’s lips were warm, a bit chapped, and tasted slightly of pumpkin as they met mine. It was a simple kiss, nothing more than a peck, really, but it was like I was encased in the feeling, like it was all I could feel or think about. His soft touch sent a shiver down my spine, and as he pulled away, I had to stop myself from leaning forward to capture his mouth in another kiss.

“Wow,” Harry breathed. 

I was still speechless, still fighting down the nerves that were eating at my chest, so I just offered a soft smile in return. We stayed like that for just a moment more, before he stood up, pulling me up by the hand he was still holding. 

“Let’s eat, shall we? I’m starving.” 

“Of course that’s what you were thinking about while we kissed,” I joked, rolling my eyes, but standing up and following him nonetheless. 

"Believe me, all I've been thinking about lately is you," Harry promised me, facing me as I stood. "Especially about kissing you."

I gave him a cocky smile. "What can I say? I'm irresistible," I joked, and Harry wrapped a strong arm around my hip, tugging me close. 

"You have no damn idea," He said softly, and I lifted up on my tiptoes, pressing my mouth to his in a kiss that wasn't quite as chaste as the first, savoring the warm feeling it ignited in me. 

We strode into the warm Great Hall together, the room bright with voices and candles and wafts of incredible-smelling food. Spotting Ron sitting with Cho and Cedric, we made our way over. Harry had dropped my hand just outside the door, both of us silently agreeing that maybe we weren’t quite ready for all our friends to know, that we wanted to keep each other to ourselves for just a while. Cho eyed me as I sat a little too close to Harry, Ron clapping him on the back and greeting us with a loud “Hello!” that was warbled by the food he had already shoved in his mouth. 

“How were your classes?” Cho asked, piling what looked like a delicious colorful assortment of vegetables on her plate. 

“Oh, they were alright. Got stuck sitting by Malfoy in Potions.” I replied, earning a wince from the group. “Not the end of the world, I just seem to have the worst luck possible.” 

“Good thing you won that vile of Liquid Luck, then, isn’t it?” Harry threw out casually. 

Ron choked on his food, and Cho and Cedric looked at me in awe. 

“You won? You actually made the potion?” Cedric asked, his eyes wide. 

I shot a playful glare at Harry before responding. “Yeah, but it’s not a big deal. Just a dumb potion.” 

“One that literally no one else finished,” Harry added, and I pressed my elbow into his side. 

“Shut up, Potter!” I whined. 

“My, my, Adler, keep this up and you may just wind up being Slughorn’s prize student,” Cho commented. 

I grimaced. Slughorn was perfectly fine, I just had no interest being one of his special students. Especially when I knew he already had his eye on Malfoy, as well as Zabini. Doing anything they were involved with voluntarily was essentially a death wish.

Dinner was incredible, as always. The boys went off to visit Hagrid, who had just gotten back from what seemed to be a wild trip, but Cho and I were tired from the long day and the warm food that sat heavily in our bellies, so we decided to call it night. We said our goodbyes, my eyes lingering on Harry’s form as he walked away, laughing loudly at something Ron had said. 

Cho and I walked in silence, both of our heads packed with everything we had learned that day. My brain was firing at a ridiculous rate, turning over and over the events of that day and the vile feeling of panic I couldn't stop feeling at the thought of such close contact. The stairs seemed like a colossal feat after our delightful dinner, our footsteps dragging tiredly as we climbed and climbed and climbed. We reached the Ravenclaw common room, and I answered the riddle sleepily, the door swinging open to reveal a few students milling about and enjoying the warmth of the fire after a hard day. 

We entered our room, which was empty, and as the door closed, Cho turned to me, arms crossed in front of her. I stopped cold, her dark eyes piercing me. 

“Anything you’d like to tell me?” Cho inquired, her body still.

I blurted out, “Harry and I kissed!” I flopped down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling with a starry-eyed gaze. 

“What? When? How?” Cho’s barrage of questions made me turn onto my stomach to face her where she was sitting on the edge of her bed.

“Harry. Kissed me. About an hour ago.” I replied, twirling a piece of my midnight hair between two slender fingers. “We were talking about…” I stopped myself, not wanting to divulge those particularly unpleasant details. I restarted, “We were talking after Slughorn’s class and he sat down on a bench we were walking by and then I sat down and then I was looking down and he put his hand on my cheek and then he grabbed my hand and then next thing I know, he’s kissing me and I swear I almost _died_.” I sighed softly, recalling the feel, the taste of the kiss. 

I decided that Cho didn't need to know how horrifying it was, how unused to any sort of intimacy I was. 

Cho was studying me carefully. “I’m happy for you, don’t get me wrong, I just think...maybe you should be careful.” She said cautiously.

My face twisted with confusion, and I sat my tired body up. “Be careful? Why? This is Harry we’re talking about.”

Cho picked at her cuticles, pursing her lips. “Just be careful, okay? I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” 

I couldn’t believe Cho was acting like this. I had just kissed Harry, who was, by all accounts, a wildly attractive boy and incredibly wonderful friend, and all she could say was _be careful?_

“You’re not the only person who gets to kiss Harry. Other people are allowed to be interested in him,” I shot back, anger swelling inside me. “I thought you’d at least be happy for me! I guess that was too much to ask for.” 

Cho let out a noise of indignation. “What, you think I’m jealous of you? Harry chased me for an entire _year_ , and you think I’m jealous that you two kissed once? I thought you were a little bit brighter than that.”

Her words slammed into me like a train. “I don't see why you're getting so damn defensive about this! You have Cedric now, and Harry only chased you because you led him on! You just liked the attention, admit it.” I retorted, my voice raising with every response. 

“You saying I liked the attention is real fucking funny, Adler. Like you don’t flirt with every guy you talk to. At least I have the balls to open up to my friends, and not lie about every single thing. You think we don’t all know what happens at home? You think we don’t know that you barely made it into Ravenclaw?” Every word was like a punch to the stomach, my breath slipping in and out of my lungs at a rapid pace. “You think that we don’t get tired of walking on eggshells around you, of trying to convince you you belong in this House, when everyone around you can really see you belong in Slytherin? Just because you study doesn’t mean you’re smart, Elaine. You certainly aren’t very _wise_ about a lot of things.” Cho was practically spitting her words at me, and my eyes were burning with the beginning of tears, but I would _not_ let her see that her words actually hurt. 

I stood up, pulling on my shoes roughly. “Guess I don't have to wonder why you didn't come visit me after that Quidditch match, huh? It was just too much of a burden, just like me. Glad to know how you really feel, Chang. Sorry you wasted so much time on a charity case like me.” 

Cho’s eyes were flared with anger and a touch of regret. and I was sure mine were too. “Don’t wait up, _mate_.” I deadpanned, storming out of my room in my joggers and tank top, too angry to be embarrassed about the fact that I was also wearing my school shoes. I didn't even spare a glance behind me as Cho called for me to stop. I stormed through the common room, accidentally bumping into a small first year as my vision blurred with hot tears. Flying out of the door, I took the castle steps two at a time, nearly tripping a handful of times. My vision was so unclear that I had no idea where I was going until I reached a part of the castle that seemed entirely empty, and I leaned against the wall to catch my breath. Sliding down the cool stone, I forced myself to take deep gulps of air, trying not to hyperventilate from crying so hard, from letting out tears that I had been holding in for months and months.

Somehow, Cho had managed to hit every single weakness, every single anxiety that I had bottled up inside of me for years. Sobs wracked my chest as her words rang in my ears. It felt like something had blasted a dark hole inside of my chest, like I was going to start caving in and never, ever stop. I had thought that Cho, that all of my friends didn’t care about where I came from, or that the Sorting Hat had said I would fit in in Slytherin. Cho had _promised_ me she didn’t care, but now I couldn’t stop imagining them talking about me whenever I left the group, whispering about the scars and bruises and dark circles and thin frame that I would show up with every year, whispering about how stupid I was, about how nasty and unpleasant it was to even be near me. 

A small, nasty part of my brain that was growing ever larger murmured _Harry probably agrees with Cho, you know. He probably kissed you out of pity. Who could ever love a Mudblood like you, a Mudblood Slytherin?_

I sat there, sobs tearing through me, trying to be as quiet as possible in the utterly empty hall. I wasn't just crying about Cho I don't think, but about everything that had happened since last June, finally letting myself _feel_ after months of shoving it down, pretending that nothing penetrated that thick barrier I had constructed around myself. I was aware that being so emotional over such a fleeting fight was utterly ridiculous, but I had been holding in so much that it had just pushed me over the edge. By the time I could finally take a breath without crying, the moon was high in the sky, and I knew if I was caught, I’d be in loads of trouble. I couldn’t handle dealing with Filch or Flitwick tonight, so I quietly stood up and started softly walking back the way I came, spurred on by the awful thought of anyone seeing me in such a vulnerable state. As I rounded the corner at the end of the corridor, though, I ran into Slughorn’s thick frame, stumbling back a few steps. 

He was in a well-loved dark blue robe that was pulled taught around his heavy stomach, and underneath he wore striped pajama bottoms that barely brushed the top of his sleek black slippers, his arms crossed at his lower back behind him.

“Sir, I-I am so sorry, I was just on my way back to my dormitory, please don’t-” I stammered, but Slughorn gave me a kind smile. 

“I can see you’re having a difficult night.” _Shit, was it that obvious?_ I fought the urge to wipe any stray tears that may have still been clinging to my face. I _hated_ letting people see me cry more than anything; being vulnerable in front of anyone made my stomach churn with disgust. “I was just on my way back from Madam Pomfrey’s”. He held out a bag that had previously been concealed behind his large frame. “I sometimes...borrow some of her hot chocolate stache when I get a craving for chocolate,” He confessed, his voice mild. “I wouldn’t mind sharing. If you won’t divulge my little secret, of course.” Slughorn winked, and for the first time in hours, I felt my mouth crack into the smallest smile. 

He beckoned me to follow with a tilt of his head, making his way back to his office. I followed him silently back, my throat still raw from all of the crying. I hadn’t been to his office since he had moved in, and it was an open, warm, fairly large space with two gloriously plush maroon couches facing each other, and between them a few feet back was a roaring orange fire that crackled softly. Slughorn had all sorts of odd cabinets and trinkets littered around his space, and he pushed aside a stack of parchment on the small wooden table between the two couches to make way for the hot chocolate. The warm, rich aroma flooded the air as he filled up two tea cups from the metal thermos he produced from the bag. 

“Come. Sit.” Slughorn waved me over, and I sat down gently on the other couch, sighing internally as it nearly swallowed me up with its softness. He handed me a beautifully decorated blue and white porcelain cup that warmed my cold hands as I cupped it, and he took a sip of his own before sighing contentedly.

“Now, my dear,” he began, setting his cup down. “What seems to be the problem?” 

I took a sip of my drink, the warmth spreading through my body almost instantly. “Nothing, really, just had a small fight with a friend. It shouldn’t have upset me so much.” 

“It obviously wasn’t nothing if it did make you so upset, Adler. Hearing harsh words from one’s friend tends to be much worse than hearing them from an enemy.” Slughorn replied.

I nodded, then spoke. “She said some things that I think she knew would hurt me, and I know that’s why she said them. I’m used to hearing those words from M- from others, but I never thought they’d come from her. It almost felt like…” I trailed off, not wanting to overshare, but a glance at Slughorn urged me to continue. “It almost felt like my worst thoughts and feelings about myself were being realized. You think terrible things about yourself, but never truly believe that others think the same. Some of the things she said...I don’t know if I could ever forgive her.” I confessed, looking down at the rich brown liquid swirling in my hand.

Slughorn thought for a moment. “Nothing tears a soul apart more than unforgiveness, Elaine. Nothing. Forgiveness is what sets apart good people from bad. You don’t have to forgive your friend immediately, but if you hold onto that anger, it will fester and create something you will barely recognize when you look in the mirror. It isn’t easy, and I expect it will be especially difficult in this situation, but do not let others’ perception of you transform you into something you aren’t.” He seemed to pause for a moment. “May I ask what this friend of yours said?”

I furrowed my brow, trying to decide if I could truly tell Slughorn anything, but between the fire and the hot chocolate, my guard was down, and I sighed. “She said I loved attention and that I wasn’t wise and that I-I really belong in Slytherin, not Ravenclaw. She said that she and all my friends feel like they have to be careful around me and that I am nothing more than a problem to them.” Recounting it made that hole in my chest rip open a little wider, and my hand that still held the tea cup began to tremble. 

Slughorn looked at me with sympathetic eyes, before draining his cup and setting it down, the stains vanishing instantly. “I know that there are biases and certain trains of thought considering all Houses here, but being a Slytherin would be nothing to be ashamed of.” He could tell I was about to protest, but held up a hand to stop me. “The most ambitious, dedicated witches and wizards I have ever met were Slytherin. You have the brains for Ravenclaw, there is not a single doubt about that. But your heart? Your very _soul?_ I see that ambition, that self-preservation inside of you. How do you think you have pushed through everything? I know that many, many people look at the Slytherin house with anger and disdain, but they fail to see how essential, how wonderful those in that House are. Do not be ashamed, Elaine Adler, of who you are. Do not hide that cunning, that wit, that survival instinct that lives inside of you. Studying is a wonderful thing, don’t get me wrong. What kind of professor would I be if I discouraged that?” Slughorn let out a hearty chuckle, and the corner of my mouth followed. “But there is so much more inside you that you need to tend to to grow into the first-rate witch I know that you will become, because you are already such a remarkable student and witch.”

I felt gratitude overwhelm me, and I offered Slughorn the first real smile since we ran into each other. “Thank you, Professor. For everything.”

“Anytime, Adler. Anything for my star student! I expect you upset a great deal of your classmates, but no matter. You deserved that Felix Felicis, there is no doubt about that. Have you given it a try yet?” He asked, and I could tell he was far more curious than he seemed. 

“No, not yet, Professor. I think I’ll save it for when I really need it.” I replied, draining the last bits of my drink. 

Slughorn nodded. “Very wise, Adler. Very wise indeed.” He cleared my cup with a wave of his hand and stood. “Let’s get to bed, shall we? Rest is very important after a good cry.” 

I got to my feet, suddenly feeling the tiredness overwhelm my body like it was seeped into my very bones. “Goodnight, Professor. Thank you again.” I said as we reached the solid oak door. 

“Come by anytime. I enjoyed our conversation. I believe you and I could learn quite a bit from each other.” Slughorn patted me gently on the shoulder. “I think it would be wise to wait to talk to your friends until the morning, at the very least. Tiredness has a way of making us say things we otherwise might not.” 

I nodded in agreement, and the cold air of the drafty stone hallway brushed my face as I left the warm confines of Slughorn’s office. The trek back to my dormitory wasn’t awful, but it was long enough that it gave me ample time to think about the events of the night. With every twist and turn I prayed that I wouldn’t run into anyone else, because all I really wanted to do was curl into my bed and close my eyes that were still puffy from crying. As I got to the common room, I noticed a first year sitting outside, her head bobbing up and down, trying to fight off sleep. 

I reached out my hand for her to grab to help her stand up. “Couldn’t get it?” I asked softly. 

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. 

“No need for crying, everything’s okay.” I smiled at her. “See?” The door swung open as I answered the riddle, and she looked at me gratefully. 

“Thank you,” she yawned, “so much.” 

I nodded my head, and she ambled up the stairs to her room. I followed, and when I saw Cho sleeping in her bed on top of her covers, I frowned. 

And decided I wasn’t ready to forgive. 

Not yet.


	6. Violence Is Never The Answer--But It Sure Feels Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malfoy's a dick, and gets what's coming to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for light violence, as well as intimidation from a man and mentions of abuse. Enjoy!

Two weeks passed, and I hadn’t said a single word to Cho or the rest of the group since the night Harry and I had kissed. I sat alone at most meal times, and I didn’t speak to them if we had any classes together. I wasn’t punishing them, not really. I just wanted to honestly see if any of them truly cared about me. I also needed space to work through the awful things Cho had said to me. Maybe by distancing myself, I was proving her right, but I had to know if the people I cared most about in the entire world actually cared about me the same. Really, I hadn’t said a word to anyone, besides the odd answer to a question from a teacher, or the occasional sorry to someone if I bumped into them in a corridor. The loneliness was almost comforting in its familiarity, and I could feel that distant emotion of numbness and emptiness encroaching on me every day that my supposed friends continued on with their lives, not giving me a second though. Seeing them laugh together at meal times, seeing Harry and Ginny out on the Quidditch pitch, seeing Cho and Cedric be so disgustingly in love fed the vicious voice that hid in my brain, that told me that maybe I was worthless, maybe I was so damaged and broken and lost that I didn't deserve love, didn't deserve to be in Slytherin. 

October’s frost was starting to paint the grass every morning, and I could see my breath when I ventured outside, the air biting at my nose and cheeks and turning them pink. Normally I would be coming from Transfiguration when I made my way down to the dungeon, but Hagrid had asked me to stop by to bring Slughorn an ingredient he had been growing for him, so by the time I entered the Potions classroom, my hair was windblown, tendrils of darkness framing my face, my cheeks and nose had been kissed pink by the frigid air, and my chest was heaving from trying to make it there on time, my ribs still slightly tender from the fall, and the cold weather only seemed to worsen them. 

“Ah, Ms. Adler! I was beginning to wonder where you were.” Slughorn greeted me. 

“Hagrid, ingredient, for you,” I panted out, holding the brown parcel up with a shaky hand. 

“Wonderful! Just wonderful,” Slughorn walked from the front of the class and I handed the package to him. “If you could kindly take your seat, we need to begin today’s lesson.” As everyone turned around, I noticed Harry and Hermione’s gazes lingering on me, but I kept my eyes on Slughorn’s retreating form. 

I nodded and made my way to the table Malfoy was sitting at diagonally to the right of the door. Placing my bag on the table, I collapsed into my chair, chest still heaving with lost breath. 

Malfoy leaned over to me slightly, making his expensive cologne drift towards me. It was actually a pleasant scent, musk and something oddly warm and inviting. “Heard you and Potter’s little gang are in a fight. What, they finally realized you’re a pain in the ass to have around?” His voice was low, soft, but it didn’t soften the impact of his words. 

Tears of frustration burned at my nose and I grit my teeth, pulling out my parchment and smoke-gray quill. “None of your fucking business, Malfoy. Don’t you have better, more Death Eater related things to worry about, you fucking prick?” 

Malfoy laughed. He actually let out a laugh. It was the first time I had ever heard him do so, and I hated to admit that it wasn’t the worst sound I had ever heard. It seemed to rumble deep in his chest, warm at the back of his throat. “Maybe not hanging out with those bastards has finally given you some fire, Adler. If you weren’t still such an obnoxious suck-up, I might actually be impressed.” 

“Like I care if I impress you, Malfoy. I could figure out how to make your father love you, and you’d still find a way to give me shit for it.” I fired back quietly, trying to hear what Slughorn was saying in the front of the class. 

I could tell that hit a nerve, and a sense of pride swelled in me as Malfoy clenched his fist, his silver ring glinting in the dim dungeon light. “You know nothing about my father.” He turned to me for the first time in weeks, his pale eyes shooting into my own, his angular face cold like a marble statue. “At least my father doesn’t drink more whiskey than water. At least my father doesn’t _hit_ me.” He growled, his eyes burning into the long mark on my arm, and the tears that had been dancing behind my eyes earlier returned but I swallowed and forced them down. 

I don’t know what came over me. It felt like a wave of pure rage washed over me, fire filling my throat as Malfoy mentioned my sad excuse for a father. I barely felt my hand lift from my parchment, barely felt the stinging of my palm against Malfoy’s pale cheek, the way his blond hair whipped to the side, the way the entire class stopped and their mouths dropped as my slap landed. 

The noise was sickening. I hadn’t meant to hit him--- or I had, just not so hard. Not hard enough to make a sound that was so sharp it nearly made me sick.

“You fucking filthy Mudblood!” Malfoy growled, his hand coming up to cup his quickly reddening cheek. “You’ll pay for this. I wish I had let that fucking Blugder slam into your thick skull when I had the chance.” 

The class let out a collective gasp, whispers flying as they took in the scene playing out before them. 

_“I wish you_ _had,_ ” I snarled, my hand still stinging wildly, my heart pounding beneath my dark robes. "It would be better than having to see your nasty face every single fucking day of my life."

“Adler! Malfoy! I will be discussing this with the two of you after class.” Slughorn reprimanded, his face painted with horror from the interaction he had just witnessed. 

I could feel my face heating up, and I mumbled a soft, “Yes, sir.” Malfoy stayed quiet beside me. 

Everyone was still looking at the pair of us, some with mouths agape, and I wished more than anything that I could fold into the shadows behind me and never reappear. Harry was looking at me with a devastated expression, and the only other time I had seen Hermione’s eyes filled with that much rage was when _she_ had hit Malfoy. 

I sat there stunned for the rest of the class, watching the red kiss of my handprint bloom on Malfoy’s ivory skin. Hitting someone was so wildly unlike me. Malfoy’s words had hit something deep, something dark inside of me that I couldn’t control and did not want to face. It was a lecture period, so I sat there trying to record Slughorn’s lesson, but my parchment was woefully bare by the end, when Slughorn announced that we would be taking a short exam the next day we would meet. 

Everyone filed out, some throwing pitiful glances at me or fiery stares at Malfoy, though those were always short. The two of us sat there, unmoving, until the classroom had completely emptied. Slughorn tidied up his desk, putting away his books and notes, before making his way to our table in the back. 

“Mr. Malfoy. Ms. Adler,” Slughorn began, looking at us with a concerned expression. “I understand that there is some tension between you two, and though I do not condone it, I myself had something similar when I was your age. I understand that House relationships are tenuous at best at times. But whatever personal vendetta and prejudices you have against the other will not be tolerated any longer in my classroom. Outside of these walls, I have no control over what you do or say, but while you are here, you will act amicably and you will refrain from any further outburst of physical violence. I am quite frankly disgusted by the way you two just acted.” Slughorn looked pointedly at me, and I felt smaller than I ever had.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Slughorn turned his gaze toward the blond boy, who was tense, his gaze so sharp I slunk away from it without it even being directed at me. “Those kinds of words are not tolerated in my classroom, nor are they allowed in any part of Hogwarts. You may be in different houses, but you both are students here, and as such, I expect better from you. Using blood slurs is a heinous, repulsive thing. Do not think that I won’t take further action if it happens again. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to have to get your father and Dumbledore involved.” 

I held back a snort. _His father is probably the one who taught it to him._

Slughorn looked at us, his arms crossed over his round belly. “Sir, I’m sorry for what I did, but Malfoy---” 

Slughorn cut me off. “I don’t want to hear excuses, Adler. I’m well aware of what he said, and I know that right now that topic is especially sensitive, but that neither excuses or justifies your actions. I expect far better from you.” 

I risked a glance at Malfoy, hoping he hadn’t caught what Slughorn meant, but by the glint in his eye, I knew he had. “Yes, sir,” I said, looking down to pick at my short nails that were already very much worse for the wear. 

“Mr. Malfoy, anything you would like to say?” Slughorn prompted. 

Malfoy’s jaw tightened, and it was like speaking was physically painful as he gritted out, “Sorry, _Professor_. It won’t happen again.” 

“See that it doesn’t, or I’ll be forced to get other staff involved, and we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Slughorn asked, though it seemed more rhetorical than anything. 

Malfoy’s hand was in such a tight fist the veins on the back of it were straining and I was sure his nails were pressing rouge crescents on his large palms. “No, sir.” His voice was clipped, but chalk full of anger and resentment and every other sour feeling in the world. 

Slughorn nodded once. “Good. You both are dismissed. I’m not assigning detention, as it’s the first offense, but do not be mistaken; I will not be so forgiving again.” He waddled past our table and out the door, leaving the two of us in uncomfortable, thick silence. 

Standing up and shoving my chair in, I packed up my things quicker than I ever had before. My only thought was to get away from Malfoy, to disappear before he could retaliate as I was sure he would. I had just stuffed my last bits of belongings into my bag when Malfoy stood up, his body towering over mine. I paused my movements as he took a silent step forward, then another, then another, crowding me, forcing me to stumble back until the cold stone of the wall just behind our table in the back of the classroom met my back. His frame eclipsed mine as I tried not to shrink back into the wall, as I tried to hold my ground, keep my chin high to show I was _not_ afraid, no matter what the trembling of my hands and the rasp of my breath might say otherwise. Malfoy’s large hand slammed the wall next to my head, and I had to fight the flinch that the sound elicited, had to choke down the memories of similar sounds. 

Malfoy tilted his head until the rough mark on his cheek was all I could look at, the outline of my hand clear and purpling on his fair skin. “You ever touch me again, and I _promise_ you, you will fucking regret it, you piece of filth.” He glanced down, trailing an ice-cold fingertip down the puckered, almost faded pink line that shot down my lower arm, which I instantly ripped away from his touch, hiding it behind my back. His touch sent a shot of heat through me, and it took all my power not to paint my confusion across my face. “Do any of your _friends,”_ he spat out the word like it burnt his mouth, “know where this is from? Do they even know anything about you, really?” Malfoy’s hand pulled away from me, slipping it into his pocket. “I’d wager if they did, they wouldn’t be your friends at all.” 

Hurt must’ve flashed across my features, though I tried to keep my expression as neutral as possible with my heart pounding. 

Malfoy’s lips pulled up into a smug smirk. “Or is that exactly why Potter hasn’t talked to you in two weeks?” His face furrowed into fake sympathy. “Poor Adler, wanted by no one, not even the outcasts. How could they want you? You're painfully stupid, and your Muggle blood made you uglier than anything I've seen before. I'm shocked, really, that they lasted this long around you. I can barely stand to be around you for an hour without wanting to be sick." 

I finally found my voice again, and words tumbled out like a waterfall. “My life is none of your business and whether or not my friends are speaking to me is none of your business either. I am perfectly capable of being on my own; I always have been and I always will be. You think your words really hurt me? You think _anything_ you do could _really_ hurt me?” _It does, it does, it does._ “It doesn’t. I've gone through far worse than dealing with a spoiled little rich boy who's father is barely better than mine. You don’t matter at all to me, and I’d reckon that that goes for everyone else you know as well. I don’t understand how someone can be so awful, so _wretched,_ but I can’t--” My voice caught as tears warmed my throat, and I cursed myself internally. “You can fucking torment me all you want, you canwish me dead, you can even _hit_ me and I could care less." _You fucking liar._ "So you know what, Malfoy? You can go fucking jump off the Astronomy Tower for all I care. You may be a Pureblood, but you’re the most vile, disgusting human I have ever met.” I hadn’t noticed tears were falling down my face until a drop hit the floor between the two of us. 

Embarrassment and further anger flared up as I noticed the drop of salty water splattered on the floor, the single piece of evidence of how much his words really had stabbed into me, how much they had replayed in my brain, especially during the summer when I was alone and spiraling.

Malfoy looked shocked, genuinely _shocked_ at the fact that I was actually crying in front of him. He lifted his massive hand off the gray stone behind my head, and brought it in front of my face. My breath seemed stuck in my throat as his hand moved, sure he was going to return the hit I had given him earlier, but instead, his thumb swiped a single tear off my cheek that was ruddy from anger, anger that had been so loud I was shaking, anger that had just dissipated with a single brush of my enemy’s finger. 

  
My own face crumpled with confusion, and I stilled as he examined my tear on the pad of his thumb like he was looking for something. He smirked, rubbing the moisture away between his thumb and middle finger. Malfoy’s voice was barely above a whisper as he said, "Never seen you cry before, Alder. Not a bad look on you." 

His words hit my core with an odd sensation as once again his scent filled my senses and I could smell the cinnamon on his breath. Malfoy opened his mouth again but before he could speak, I ducked past him, grabbed my bag that was still sitting on the table and nearly ran out of the dungeon, my steps quick and uneven; I had to get away, I couldn’t _stand_ being near him for one more moment, smelling his stupidly expensive cologne, feeling his body heat, seeing every line and shade in his eyes. What I couldn’t see as I fled was Malfoy still standing there, his eyes boring a hole into the wall that the back of my head had collided with.


	7. It Feels Good to Have a Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are finally beginning to patch up, which makes things much more complicated than being on your own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No content warning, but this chapter is a bit short! Enjoy<3

I kept up my uneven, quick pace until I reached the ground floor of the castle, and I felt like I was _finally_ able to pull in a complete breath. The corridors were still fairly crowded with students returning from their final classes of the day, so I did my best to wipe my face clean of any betraying emotions and I made my way through the throngs of people laughing and shouting in celebration of the last day of the week, trying to keep my steps normal, even though I longed for the safety and privacy of my dormitory. The journey seemed to take forever, my mind turning with what Malfoy had said, what he had _done._ To say I was confused was an understatement of massive proportions. I could not think of a single reason why he had wiped that tear off my cheek. It was so wildly out of character, so close to something resembling kindness, that it set me a bit on edge. Malfoy had to have done it for a reason; he never did anything that wasn’t thought out or planned. I had been sorry for slapping him, but I couldn’t deny it felt good. As I made my way up the stairs to the Ravenclaw common room entrance, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d think the same when he inevitably returned the ill will. 

I was so caught up that I didn’t notice Hermione standing outside the entrance, her arms encircling a pile of books that hadn’t fit in her already full bag. 

“Elaine!” Her voice pulled me out of the pool of thoughts I had nearly been drowning in. “Merlin’s beard, I’ve been waiting here for so long.” 

I looked at her, resentment bubbling up in my stomach. “What do you want?” I asked, my voice a bit frigid.

“I wanted to talk to you. And I noticed you didn’t take very good notes in Slughorn’s, so I wanted to offer you mine.” She thrust out a piece of parchment covered in looped, black ink. I grabbed it from her, not bothering to put it in my bag. “Look, Elaine, Cho told me about your fight.”

I felt my jaw clench and my face turn stony, but Hermione continued. “She---she told me what she said and I just...I had to let you know we don’t think that. None of us.” I had never seen her so nervous. She was always so confident, so sure of herself, that this side of her was almost... unnerving. “I know I should’ve found you sooner, and I know I had plenty of opportunities to talk to you over the past two weeks, but--” 

I cut her off. “Yes. You did. But you didn’t. None of you did. Don’t worry, even I can understand what that means, Hermione, even though I’m not as bright as you or Cho.” I spat the words, and discomfort flashed in Hermione’s eyes. “I got the message loud and clear, so don’t you worry. None of you have to continue pretending you can stand to be around me.” I tried to push past her, but surprisingly, she grabbed my arm, her hand squeezing gently. 

“We’re not pretending. We never have been. Can’t you see that? We gave you space because...well, because when Cho told us what she said to you, we figured you wouldn’t want to be around any of us, least of all her.” She looked at me, her eyes bright and clear, almost pleading. “When she told us what she said, we were all disgusted. Cedric didn’t talk to her for two days, and I’d never heard Harry so angry, and---and I…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Whatever you might think, we did defend you and Cho’s never been so sorry in her entire life.”

Pulling my hand out of her grasp gently, I shook my head. “I don’t think I can forget what she said and just get over it, Hermione. I really don’t. She said,” my voice broke and I winced, “She said _exactly_ what Malfoy has been saying since our first year. She has been the person I’ve complained to, and ranted to, and _cried_ to about everything he’s said, and the moment she could, she used those things against me. Don’t you understand how horrible that was? I trusted her, and she used every single insecurity and secret and worry that I’ve ever had to hurt me.” 

Hermione’s face was full of sadness and pain and I didn’t know if it was for me or for her or for Cho. “Please, come back. We miss you. Harry hasn’t been himself since that night. Ginny told me he just lost it one night after practice, when one of the younger players hadn’t put away their broom. Ginny had to pull him away to get him to calm down.”

Jealousy pulsed in my head as I thought of Ginny comforting Harry. He probably had forgotten all about me by now, probably was falling in love with Ginny at that very moment. It would make sense. They played Quidditch together, and she had gotten wildly beautiful over the summer, her long fiery hair now reaching her waist. That was who Harry probably really wanted to be with; a beautiful, strong, Gryffindor. 

“They’re not, you know,” Hermione said softly. “Together, I mean.” 

“Why would I care?” I shot back defensively, and Hermione just held her hands up as if to say _sorry_. 

“I’m not saying you do, Elaine. But if you did, I think that maybe you should go talk to him. To Harry,” Hermione suggested. 

I shook my head. “It’s going to take a long time for me to be able to be around Cho again. Sharing a room with her is hard enough. I go to bed late enough so that everyone is already asleep, and I’ve left by the time anyone else is up. It---it hurt, Hermione. More than anything has ever hurt me, and I---” I stopped, trying to reign in my emotions.

“I know. But I miss you. We all do. I haven’t had anyone to make fun of Ron with since you and Cho fought, and he’s getting a bit too cocky for his own good after that last Quidditch match,” Hermione joked, making me want to crack the tiniest bit of a smile, but I forced it down. 

“I-I miss you all terribly, I just… I can’t be around Cho. It hurts too much, and I can’t let her see that.” I realized, as I spoke, what I said was true. I hadn’t realized how horribly I’d missed Hermione, and Ron, and Cedric, and Harry. I’d not let myself think about him at all since we’d kissed, and I had assumed he had just moved on, because why would he want anything to do with me? Hermione’s implication that he hadn’t, though, sparked the tiniest flame of hope in me, even as I tried to smother it. “If Cho isn’t there, I’d love to come back…” I trailed off, not wanting to say that they had to choose between her and I, mostly because I was far too afraid that they would choose her, and I’d really lose all of them. “If she’s ever not around, I’ll be there.” And I finally gave Hermione the smallest smile. 

Hermione grinned at me, _beamed_ really, and she pulled me into a massive hug. “Wonderful! I have so much to tell you. So much has happened in the past two weeks.” 

I laughed for the first time in two weeks and it felt like a huge, crushing weight on my chest had been lifted, just a bit. “Let me just go set my stuff down and change and we can meet in the courtyard, by the big tree?” 

“Yes! Absolutely. See you soon!” And after a kiss on the cheek, Hermione was off, striding down the stairs to the Gryffindor common room. 

Entering my room, I nodded a hello to Luna, rushing to get undressed. I dumped my bag haphazardly on my bed, kicked off my uncomfortable school shoes, and tugged off my robe, then my sweater, and then my skirt, replacing them with a soft blue long sleeve, a large, black zip-up who’s sleeves came down to my fingers, and a pair of worn, tight black jeans that were beginning to fray at the hem. Pulling on my boots, I barely bothered to lace them before I was rushing back out of the dormitory and bounding down the steps, excited to finally have someone to talk to again. Maybe Hermione could help me make sense of Malfoy’s strange behavior today. 

Slowing myself down as I reached the bottom of the stairs, I strolled out into the courtyard. The grass had begun to fade from its emerald green to slightly sickly yellow, the sky was shot through with storm clouds, and the wind was biting, but had that certain nip about it that whispered of Autumn’s beginning. There were a few students milling about, but the tree that Hermione and I had agreed to meet by was unoccupied, and I made my way over, the grass crunching softly beneath my feet. I leaned against the rough bark of the tree, taking in the brisk afternoon for a few moments before Hermione came into view, and I waved her over. 

We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening catching up, and I had missed it more than I realized. She caught me up about what had been going on within the group, talking about this and that, before she shyly threw out, “And then, last night, Ron kissed me.” I had been weaving strands of grass together while I listened, but I dropped the blades in surprise and turned to face Hermione. 

“Ron kissed you?” I asked, surprised. 

Hermione nodded aggressively. “He and I were walking back alone after dinner, and he was being so strange, stranger than normal I mean, and suddenly he stopped, and I thought he was going to be ill because his face went pale, but then he just grabbed me and just kissed me!” She exclaimed.

“Bloody finally!” I grinned. “The git finally caught on, did he?” 

“I don’t know how it took him this long. I’ve been dropping hints since the first day back, and he hasn’t noticed a single one!” Hermione said, exasperated. 

I furrowed my face as if to say, _Really?_ “Hermione, I love Ron, but he’s the most oblivious person I have ever met. You could’ve waved a banner inviting him into your pants in front of his face and he wouldn’t have noticed.” 

Hermione slapped my arm playful, and I rolled my eyes. “It’s true! I’m so happy for you two. Is it, y’know, official?” I asked.

“Well...I haven’t really talked to him since last night,” Hermione murmured.

“You have two classes with him, and he’s one of your best friends, so, what? You’ve just been ignoring him?” 

“No, no, but I just...that’s why I found you today. I needed to talk about it with someone and you’re the first person I thought of,” She explained. “I’m a bit confused.”

I gasped dramatically. “The great Hermione Granger, confused? I never thought I’d live to see the day!” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Shut up, Adler. You know what I mean.” 

“Well, I think you both need to go for it. We all knew this was going to happen sooner or later,” I said.

“It won’t be odd?” Hermione asked, nervously playing with her unruly hair.

I smiled softly at her. “No, not odd at all.”

And though I was still filled with anger and hurt, maybe Hermione wasn't the right person to direct it at. Maybe I could start by letting her in again, even as the idea scared me half to death


	8. Holding Grudges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to mend with Harry, but forgiving Cho is still a long ways off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No content warnings. This chapter is a bit long, enjoy!

Things had nearly returned to normal, though I was still avoiding Cho at all costs and she had made no effort to apologize or make amends. It had been a week since I had hit Malfoy, since he had wiped that tear off my cheek, and he hadn’t said a word to me. He hadn’t even attempted to get back at me for hitting him, which made me more anxious with every passing day.

Maybe that was his goal. 

Though Hermione and I had made up, I had only gone so far as to say a quick hello to Cedric if I passed him in the corridor, and Ron and I only made occasional, fleeting conversation in McGonagall’s class. I was still avoiding Harry. I told myself it was purely out of anger, but I knew that it was really that I was scared of what he might say, even though Hermione had told me he hadn’t moved on. Not that there was much to move on from. 

_It was one kiss; it didn’t last five seconds. Why should it mean anything to him?_

It meant so much to me. More than I wanted to admit. 

I was quickly, quietly making my way out of Charms and to my next class out on the grounds with Hagrid when I heard an all too familiar voice shout: “Adler, wait up!”

I whirled around, my heart secretly hoping it was who I thought it was. Harry’s ebony hair flew through the crowd, his steps long and wild as he bumped into numerous students, a few of which threw him dirty glances as he passed. Reaching me, he skidded to a stop, bending over to catch his breath before speaking. 

Harry’s emerald eyes shone, his cheeks flush with activity, and he had a piece of hair that was brushing his forehead that I had to restrain myself from brushing back. “Elaine, holy shit,” He panted. “I’ve been looking for you. I’ve tried meeting you after your classes for two days now, but you’re always too fast!” He gulped down a deep breath. “Merlin’s beard. Anyways, I need to talk to you.” 

I frowned, pursing my lips. I didn’t know if this was a good idea, but I stayed silent as an indicator that he should continue, too painfully curious to interupt him.

“I’m so sorry about what happened with Cho. I had no idea she could ever say those things. When I found out, I---I was so angry,” Harry punctuated the word with a clench of his fist. “And--and I didn’t talk to you because I didn’t know where we stood and I didn’t know if you’d even want to be around me and I didn’t want you to feel like I was forcing anything on you and--” 

I cut him off. “Potter, shut it.”

Shock spread across his features, his nose wrinkling underneath his wire glasses. “I get it. Sort of. I stayed away because I was sure that…” I looked down at my shoes, the ground, anywhere but his eyes that were searching my face. “I just thought that you all thought what Cho told me. Maybe it was unfair of me, but I figured it was less painful to end things on my own terms, y’know?” I spoke in the most even tone I could, though recounting that night, I felt like breaking down. 

“Elaine…” Harry sighed, stepping closer so that he could grab my cold hand with his warm one and fire laced up my arm at his touch. “I could _never_ think any of that. I get why you keep secrets; I do, too. I don’t give a shit that the Hat wanted to put you in Slytherin, because...because it wanted to put me in there as well,” He confessed, his cheeks warm. 

My face twisted with confusion. “Really? You?” I asked.

Harry laughed, a soft, musical sound that set my heart racing. “Yeah, me. I had to beg it to put me into Gryffindor. Ron and I had just become friends, and I didn’t want to lose him. My point is,” he continued, lifting my chin with his pointer finger until my gaze was level with his. “My point is, Elaine, I have feelings for you, and not because of any other reason than you. Your heart, your soul, your laugh, the way you squish your nose when someone does something gross, the way you see the world. _Nothing_ could change that,” Harry said softly, and I was sure he could hear my heart beating through my chest. 

“Well, then, Potter, I guess you’re stuck with me.” I said, even as the very thought of that made my hands shake. I didn't think it was entirely because of anxiety though. 

Harry’s smile spread all the way to his eyes, and I leaned forward to brush the softest kiss against his smooth cheek, when I heard a very exaggerated retching noise coming from behind me. 

“I think I’ll actually be sick this time,” Malfoy complained, nudging Goyle, who was standing there looking about as aware as a sack of rocks. “Look at them, the Boy Who Lived and his little Muggle toy,” He sneered, his voice full of poison. “Should’ve known you two would end up together. You’re both as repulsive and unbearable to be around. I feel sorry for the both of you.”

“Shut your fat mouth, you dick,” Harry shot back, stepping slightly in front of me, as if to protect me. 

“I don’t think I will, _Potter_. And Adler, you can’t honestly tell me you like this, this,” Malfoy gestured up and down at Harry. “This pathetic excuse for a wizard.” 

His face was still plastered with a disgusted look, his nose wrinkled with contempt, but I could’ve sworn there was an odd...dullness in his eyes, as if the fire of his words didn’t quite reach them.

“As a matter of fact, Malfoy,” I spat at him, squaring my shoulders and stepping out from behind Harry’s frame, my chin high and my face utterly cold. “Harry is the best wizard I know, and the best _person_ as well, especially compared to you, so piss off before I make you.” The threat was empty, and I was pretty sure that everyone was aware of that, but Malfoy just stared at me a moment more, almost looking impressed, as if he was searching for something before pushing Goyle out of his way and storming off, the former trailing behind him like a lost puppy. 

We watched Malfoy retreat, then Harry turned to me. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t think about how this,” he gestured between us, “would affect the way that git picks on you,” He apologized, but it wasn’t necessary, and I told him so. 

“Malfoy will always find new ways to torment me, and you as well. We can’t tailor our actions just so that he makes our lives less miserable,” I said, shrugging. “I truly don’t care what he says.” 

I did, and more than I would ever admit to any living soul, but that didn’t matter. Harry walked me down to Hagrid’s hut, the air biting every centimetre of exposed skin it could find, making me shiver more and more as we climbed down the hill. We were walking in serene silence, Harry’s hand constantly brushing the back of mine, but the only thing I could think of was the look in Malfoy’s eyes during our exchange. Sure, his words had been awful, that was nothing new, but there was something missing in his piercing gaze that I had become so familiar with. He had thrown angry, hateful glances at me since we met, but that one was different and it bothered me that I couldn’t figure out what it was. I needed to figure it out, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to think about anything else until I did. 

I chewed on my lip as I thought, the warmth of Hagrid’s hut slowly wrapping us up as we approached. We stopped just outside of the little group that was forming outside of Hagrid’s, Harry giving me a smile. 

“Alright, Ms. Adler, here’s your stop. That’ll be...ten quid!” Harry joked, and I grinned, pushing his shoulder, the normalcy feelings almost overwhelmingly wonderful. 

“Yeah, right, Potter. Like that was worth ten quid,” I replied. 

Harry put his hand over his chest. “You’ve wounded me, Adler. I shall never be healed again!”

I let out a loud laugh, making some of the gathered students turn around and look at me, making me blush. “Okay, enough with the dramatics. You’re making a scene,” I said, though there was no fire to my words. 

“The Boy Who Lived? Make a scene? I would never,” Harry retorted, giving me a feux-innocent look. 

“Harry!” Hagrid’s booming voice loomed over us. “Great to see ya, but ya best be runnin’ along now! Wouldn’t want Snape gettin’ after ya for skippin’!” 

We craned our necks to look at Hagrid’s bearded face, a streak of soot or dirt or something running across the bridge of his rather large nose. 

Giving Hagrid a quick hug, Harry said, “You’re right. Probably shouldn’t get another detention,” shot me a soft glance, and made his way back up the sloping hill to the castle above. 

Hagrid’s class passed quickly, and though I tried my hardest to listen to him excitedly go into detail about Flobberworms, I found there was much more interesting and pressing things to think about, namely my last interaction with Malfoy. It had been so odd, so... _unsettling_ that I could not get it out of my head. The way his eyes seemed so dull and empty set me on edge, and combined with the way he had pressed into my space after Potions, the way that the sharp, warm edge of his cologne still lingered in the back of my mind, made me feel incredibly uneasy about him. Worried wasn’t quite the right word but...I didn’t feel right about it. 

After an incredibly dull ninety minutes feeding beige worms pieces of cabbage and making menial small talk with two Hufflepuffs I hadn’t ever seen before, the class set up the hill, but Hagrid asked me to stay back, making up an excuse about needing help retrieving more cabbage for his next group of students. 

Walking over to his little garden that was practically filled to the brill with all sorts of odd plants, Hagrid began loading up my arms with the cabbage, its scent nearly making me gag. 

“So,” Hagrid’s deep voice began, “What’s goin’ on between you and Harry, eh?”

I blinked in surprise. “Er, nothing really, j-just, you know, friends, friendly-type things…” I trailed off as Hagrid gave me a stern look, one I had never been on the receiving end of before. 

Hagrid motioned me to begin walking, his own large arms filled with cabbages as well now. 

“Don’t much like lyin’, Elaine. ‘Specially when it’s about my two favorite students,” Hagrid warned. 

Though my chest warmed at Hagrid’s affection, my stomach twisted with anxiety. “To be honest, I’m not entirely sure,” I explained, following Hagrid in dumping the foul vegetable into the creaky wooden crate in front of his homely hut. “I guess a lot more changed over the summer than I expected.” Finally free, I brushed the dark sleeves of my sweater off, dirt and dead leaves fluttering to the ground. 

“Well, whatever it is, I’m happy for the two of ya. The both of you deserve some good,” Hagrid replied, a kind grin on his face. 

I smiled back. “Thank you.” 

My brain contested that I didn't, that I could never possibly deserve anything resembling true happiness. 

Hagrid pulled me into a massive hug that might’ve recracked some of my ribs, the aroma of earth and something herbal enveloping me, and sent me off as he said: “Tell Ron and Hermione to come visit more, and Harry as well. I miss the lot of you.” 

I nodded in response, trekking up the stone stairs embedded in the hill. Hagrid had been the closest thing to a kind father figure I’d ever had since I’d arrived. I had a sneaking suspicion he took both Harry and I under his wing because he knew more than he let on about our families, most likely courtesy of Dumbledore, but I never minded much. He had always been there whenever we needed him, and I loved him dearly for it. Thinking about when I first saw him made me giggle to myself as I finally escaped the bitter fall air as I entered the hallway, my nose and fingers beginning to sting back to life. I had just gotten off the train, and having lost Cho, I wandered aimlessly, no clue where I was supposed to be going, and as I walked, Hagrid’s giant shadow encased me. When I had turned around, my heart nearly stopped in shock at the sight of the huge man. At first, I had been terrified, but from the moment he opened his mouth, I knew he had a cuddly interior. Hagrid truly meant the world to all four of us, and Harry and I both would never be able to thank him enough, quite honestly. 

Warm from the happy memories, I picked my way through the crowds and back to my dormitory, ready to take off my uniform and curl up by the fire. I solved the riddle quickly, and quite pleased with myself, I walked up the winding stairs to my shared room. I pushed the solid wooden door open, and stopped dead. 

Cho was sitting on her bed, unlacing her shoes, her face plastered with an emotion I couldn’t quite name. This was the first time I’d really been face to face with her since the night she had yelled at me, had poked into each emotional wound I had, to hurt me. I considered just turning around and acting like nothing had happened, but I decided that I wasn’t going to have her think her words had actually done something to me.

_They had, you coward._

I sat down on the edge of my twin bed, reaching down to remove my shoes in favor of soft black tennis shoes, as Cho’s flitty voice reached me. 

“Elaine,” Cho said. 

Though it was petty, I chose to pretend as if I hadn’t heard her and instead focused so intently on removing my shoes that I felt like I was going to burn a hole in them. 

Cho raised her voice. “Elaine.”

_Ignoring, ignoring._

“Elaine. I know you can hear me. Don’t be a child,” Cho chided, her voice sharp. 

I let out a frustrated grunt, throwing the shoe I had just removed onto the ground, its collision with the wooden floor loud enough that Cho flinched. “This is the first time in three weeks you’ve spoken to me, and you _insult_ me? Unbelievable,” I muttered, reaching for my other shoe. “I shouldn’t have expected any better.” 

“I-I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant, I just---” Cho stopped. “Elaine, please look at me.”

Not bothering to mask the anger smeared across my features, I shot up a glare at Cho, her legs now swung to the other side of her bed so that she was fully in front of me. “You have to know how sorry I am. For all of it,” she said.

“Actually, _Cho_ , I don’t know because you haven’t bothered to apologize for anything of the horrifically unkind and awful things you said to me, to the person you called a best friend,” I pointed out. 

Cho, to her credit, looked incredibly guilty. “I know, I-I went too far, I just…” She sighed dejectedly. “I don’t know what came over me. Please, you have to forgive me.”

I widened my eyes in shock. “ _Forgive_ you? For anything that you said? That is a bold request, Chang.”

“You don’t even know how awfully I felt the moment everything came out, but you didn’t give me the chance to apologize. You just ran off,” Cho said, a small frown on her face. 

“Why shouldn’t I have? No one has ever been so terrible to me,” I responded. 

That wasn't entirely true, but some wicked part of me wanted to make Cho feel even a sliver of the hurt that she had caused me.

Cho’s voice was quiet, insistent. “Please, Elaine. How can I get you to forgive me? I miss you.”

I sighed, running a hand through my thick hair that had fallen in front of my face. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I have to think about if I can even still be friends with you. I don’t even know you won’t do it again.” 

Cho shook her head vigorously. “I won’t, swear on Merlin’s Beard.”

But still, I was hesitant. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss her, but I didn’t know if the loneliness outweighed the hurt she had caused me. I knew that a better person might just let it go, but I had a sour pit in my heart that refused to stop the grudge I had been holding. 

“I don’t know. I just need to think about it,” I said. “I’ll...I’ll let you know either way.”

Cho let the tiniest bit of hope show through her eyes, and she nodded. “Okay.”


	9. The Frightening Reality of Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings are explored, and Elaine realizes that sometimes, things can't just be ignored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am quite proud of this chapter, and I promise my writing is going to be exponentially better now that people are actually reading it! Its a long one, and there is some pg-13 content, but no other content warnings. I hope you enjoy and feedback is so incredibly welcome<3

The end of October was quickly approaching, the air now constantly chilled and the smell of wet leaves and newly tilled earth greeting my nose every morning I woke. Classes were slowly piling on more and more work, and I still hadn’t decided if I was going to forgive Cho, though we weren’t on such awfully cold terms anymore. We had begun to nod hello to each other whenever we crossed paths, but that was about as much as I could stomach. Forgiveness had always been a subject I had never been brave enough to approach. It took a strong person to go through difficult things, but I don’t know if I possessed the kind of strength it took to truly forgive someone. I had been wronged so many times over in my life that even the concept of forgiveness had become so wildly foreign, and I hated how easy it was to hold a grudge against someone and never look back, never see if they were worth redemption.

Maybe it wasn’t fair of me, but life hadn’t been fair, either. 

When I had finally started talking to Ron again in Transfiguration, he had honestly had no clue I had stopped being friends with the group for a while, saying he just figured I was busy, which made me flick his ear in response. Ron was a wonderful friend, but sometimes he wasn’t very observant. Hermione and him seemed happy, though, and it made me endlessly happy that the two of them had finally begun to wise up and see that the other had harbored feelings for them since we all met. I was...not jealous, not really, but more envious at first, because I saw how much they cared for each other and I had long ago convinced myself I would never be worthy of that kind of affection. 

It was a brisk, stormy Wednesday, when it was announced that the first Hogsmeade trip would take place that weekend, which set the older students alight with excitement. There was nothing like visiting Hogsmeade in Autumn, the orange and auburn decorations strewn throughout the village, cinnamon and nutmeg floating through the air, and autumn treats filling every storefront window. Though Christmas was quite magical, there was something about autumn that had always made me favor it the slightest bit more. 

Until Hogwarts, I had never actually had a _real_ Christmas, never had presents or a feast or loved ones to celebrate with. My ten Christmases before had been spent alone, barely even noting that it was Christmasday, and trying to ignore the shouts and bumps from downstairs that seemed to fill my room as if my walls were nothing more than paper. Christmas at Hogwarts had been the first time I had ever felt loved in my entire life, and though some might find it sad, it made me all the fonder of coming back to school. 

Walking to Potions with Hermione and Harry after studying in the library during lunch instead of eating (which caused Harry to complain incessantly), the three of us walked down to the dungeon, which had become increasingly cold and damp as the months passed, making it so we had to bundle up until the cauldrons were lit and the warmth of the various fires began to fight the low temperature. 

We walked into the classroom, students huddling in small groups to keep their warmth between them, and I parted ways with Harry and Hermione, the latter giving me a small hug and the former just smiling at me before I made my way to my seat. Things between Harry and I were...good, really, we just hadn’t found the time to talk about our feelings, though I suspected we both hadn’t really been looking for a time to do so. To nobody’s surprise, he and I had never been the best about articulating our feelings, and that was painfully obvious to all of our friends, especially currently. Part of me was also dreading it, as I didn't know if I was even capable of being a healthy person to be with, and a sinking feeling in my stomach was doing its best to convince me of that. 

There were three minutes until class officially started, and the seat next to me was still empty, which made a small part of me strangely...morose. Blaise was in his usual spot, and Crabbe, who had somehow made it into this class, was sitting in his place to the right of him, so I had no idea why Malfoy wasn’t present. 

Not that I cared. _Liar._ Our interactions, in some sick and twisted way, was my way of punishing myself. For what, I didn't know, but it was. 

I spent those three minutes pulling out my things and flipping to the right page in my book, making me remember the first day of classes when it had miraculously, and all on its own, landed on the right recipe. Maybe a gust of wind, but wind wasn’t usually so precise. 

Another peculiar thing to add to the ever-growing list in this period.

Slughorn toddered to the front of the classroom, ready to begin the lesson, and Malfoy still was not present. “The Wound-Cleaning potion. An incredibly useful spell to know, especially for those that seem to attract trouble,” Slughorn spoke, eyeing both me and Harry. “Purple in color, it smokes and stings when applied, but almost immediately heals the affected area. I believe that many of you are familiar with this, even if you weren’t aware of what it was at the time.” 

A phantom pain brushed my shoulder as I recalled our fourth year, when I had been distracted while in Herbology, and had earned a nasty cut that spanned from the top of my shoulder to the middle of my collar bone. The wound had immediately started bleeding, and Neville nearly fainted at the sight of so much crimson liquid that had flowed from my shoulder at an alarming rate. Madam Pomfrey had naturally fixed it up in less than an hour, but the pain I endured during the walk from the greenhouse to the infirmary still made me wince, the faint scar that still remained on my skin joining the extensive collection I previously possessed. 

“I have chosen this to be our next potion, because try as we might, the staff cannot always guarantee your safety, and it will assure that if there ever were an incident, you all could have proper materials to patch up a friend, or perhaps even save a life,” Slughorn continued. “Please turn to page two hundred and seventy-seven to glance over the list of ingredients before I begin the demonstration.” 

The room filled with the sound of pages turning, and I sat, my book already at the appropriate page. Glancing over the ingredients, I was happy to recognise the majority of them, hopefully meaning that this potion wouldn’t be as difficult as the last few Slughorn had assigned. 

“Once you have read over the list, please, in an orderly fashion, retrieve your ingredients and begin your task,” Slughorn said, returning to sit behind his desk and flipping through our last paper on the bezoar. 

I joined Harry and Hermione as they made their way to the storage room, everyone grabbing what they needed for the potion. 

“Odd that Malfoy isn’t here,” I said, picking up a glass bottle full of bright green powder. 

“Isn’t it a good thing, though? Means he won’t be bothering you,” Hermione responded, grabbing the bottle out of my hand and replacing it with the correct one, a small one filled with blue powder. I smiled sheepishly at her in thanks. 

“No, it is. I never enjoy dealing with that git; it’s just strange, I guess,” I said, finishing grabbing my ingredients and waiting for the two of them to do the same. 

Harry, picking up two bezoars and handing them to Hermione and I, said, “Well, I’m glad he isn’t here. I hate that bastard more than anything, and I really hate the way he talks to you, Elaine. Someone needs to put him in his place.”

I shook my head. “I think that would just make things worse, honestly. I’ve just tried to ignore him, and it hasn’t seemed to go too badly so far,” I explained, though I didn’t want to admit that I had almost expected him to back off after he saw Harry and I outside of my class a bit ago. Malfoy had just been so off, and I still was no closer to figuring out why. 

“Well, wherever he is, I hope he hits his head; maybe that’ll knock some sense into his ridiculously blond head,” Hermione said simply, making Harry and I both choke out a surprised laugh.

Hermione had always been bold in her own way, but this year it seemed as if someone had lit a fire under her, making her far more vocal and confident than in years past. Quite honestly, I was proud of her. People had a tendency to walk all over her, as they saw her as just a shy know-it-all, though she was far more than that. She had a kind of internal fire that was incredibly rare, one that came out at the strangest of times.

Hermione and Harry snagged their last items, and we made our way back to our seats hastily, having dawdled a bit too long, causing us to be behind the rest of the class already. I reached my cauldron, and with a wave of my wand, ignited a small orange flame that began licking the bottom of the pot. 

By the time Slughorn called out that there was ten minutes remaining, my potion had just barely begun to turn a lovely dark purple, and the stinging scent of antiseptic began to fill the room, and I sighed. This potion had not been easy, and Harry had no little bits of advice for me this time, which was a bit disappointing, though I did enjoy being able to succeed all on my own. Asking for help had never been a strong suit of mine, and this potion had proved that quite adeptly, as I had struggled with two or three separate steps, but I refused to ask Slughorn for guidance. I don’t know whether it was because I was Muggle-born, or that incessant drive I had to always be the best, but asking for help had always felt like admitting defeat. 

Maybe I was too headstrong for my own good, but so far, nothing bad had come of it. 

_So far._

I looked over at Zabini and Crabbe’s table, where the latter’s potion had gone quite horrifically wrong, and was now eating through the thick metal of the cauldron and spilling onto the floor. I stifled a laugh as Crabbe hopped more nimbly than I had ever seen him move to avoid a rather large drop that was rolling off of his desk. 

I found myself more than once looking quickly to my right side, expecting to see Malfoy’s strong cheekbones, or his pale hands cutting up an ingredient, or his husky voice murmuring instructions to himself. Realizing that I had gotten used to his presence made my throat tighten with self-hatred. How could I possibly be _used_ to having someone near that had never said anything even remotely kind to me? 

Slughorn cut through my train of thought. “Alright, students, that’s time! Please finish what you are doing, and step back so that I can come assess your progress.”

He made his way around the room, making short comments to every student, though most of them seem to be disappointed. So far, two students, one from Gryffindor, and one from Slytherin, had completed the task correctly, which earned them claps on the shoulder and a beaming grin from Slughorn. Hermione made hers perfectly as well, to no one’s surprise, and she smiled to herself, practically glowing with satisfaction as Slughorn passed Harry’s cauldron with another congratulations. Slughorn grimaced with the disgust at the mess Crabbe had made, and finally arrived at my solely-occupied table. 

“Let’s see here, Ms. Adler,” He started, making a few non-committal grunts as he surveyed my work. “Wonderful, as usual!” 

I grinned, feeling proud of myself, and not ashamed of it. 

“Come to think of it, Adler, how would you, Potter, and Granger like to stay after class to discuss something with me? Nothing to worry about,” Slughorn clarified, seeing my concerned expression. “Just a friendly conversation with three of my best students.”

I nodded. “Sure, Professor. I’ll make sure we stay behind.” 

“Wonderful!” Slughorn turned to the rest of the class. “I am rather pleased that such a large number of you managed to correctly make this potion! Those of you who fell short, not to worry! Still plenty more chances to succeed before end of term. Please clear your cauldrons, return any ingredients that were not used, and have a wonderful evening!” 

The room swelled with the sound of everyone packing up their things, and after I had cleared my cauldron and cleaned up, I made my way over to Harry and Hermione to let them know Slughorn wanted us to stay behind. Hermione immediately began fretting, but I assured her that Slughorn said it was positive. The class emptied out, and we walked up to Slughorn’s desk.

“Ah, wonderful,” He said, sitting back in his rather cozy-looking chair. “I wanted to extend an offer to the three of you for dinner in my office Saturday night. Nothing fancy, just a few other outstanding students and myself. I’d like to get to know the lot of you better.”

I shared a look with Harry, who said, “That sounds wonderful, sir. What time?”

Slughorn smiled. “7 o’clock sharp, and not to worry about staying out after curfew. I’ve cleared it with all the heads of Houses, as well as Filch.”

His assurance seemed to release the tightness in Hermione’s shoulders. “Thank you for inviting us, sir. We’ll see you there!”

The conversation seemed over, so we turned and gathered our stuff from our respective tables before making our way out of the frigid dungeon. 

As we walked up, Harry began talking. “Anyone else feel a bit...odd about Slughorn having a private dinner?”

I nodded in agreement. “It is strange, though I can’t say I’m not a bit proud of myself for doing well enough to catch a teacher’s attention. Isn’t that right, Hermione? You must be dying inside,” I joked, nudging her. 

As the year progressed, it seemed as though Slughorn had an affinity for outcasts, for those students that didn’t quite fit in, and though we had shared a very helpful conversation a month ago, something about his pragmatism towards us unsettled me. I couldn’t help but feel there was some sort of ulterior motive. 

Hermione rolled her eyes, though her cheeks were a betraying shade of red. “I don’t care that much,” she muttered, but Harry and I both knew she was lying. 

“It’s alright, ‘Mione,” Harry replied. “Being a teacher’s pet is nothing to be ashamed of!”

Hermione hit his shoulder, though it was mostly good-natured. “Shut it, both of you.”

I laughed as we rounded the corner, spotting Ron at the end of the hall. Harry looked at me, and I spoke. “Well, that’s our cue, isn’t it?” 

He nodded and Hermione’s face broke out in a shy grin as Ron walked towards us. She tried to tell us we didn’t have to go, but between her unbreaking gaze at Ron, and the way her words were barely filled with any sort of conviction, we thought it best to let the two of them have some time together. It meant that I was going to be alone with Harry, and though we had been friends for years, now that we had outed our feelings, it felt intensely horrifying to be alone with him. Not _because_ of him, not really, but more because it implied that I would most likely have to express my feelings, and I didn’t even know where to begin. 

“See you later, mate!” Harry called as we left the two to talk, Hermione’s hand encased gently in Ron’s. 

Nerves shot through me as we made our way up the moving stairs to the library, which was relatively empty, and found a table that was rather secluded towards the back. Sitting down, I placed my bag on the floor, and looked at Harry as he turned his chair around, swinging his leg over to straddle it, his arms resting on the top of the back. 

“Lainy, I think we need to talk.”

My heart began to speed up, my stomach twisting into an anxious knot. 

Harry cleared his throat. “Listen, I really like you--”

I cut him off. “But you don’t want to be with me. I understand,” I filled in before he could finish. My heart sank, but I hadn’t truly let myself believe that _the_ Harry Potter could want me, that I could possibly be good enough for someone like him. 

A bit defeatist, sure, but I had an entire armory of defensive mechanisms I’d created over the years to stop myself from getting hurt emotionally. I couldn’t do anything about the bruises and stinging pain, but I could protect myself from being used or manipulated. I almost hated that I had gotten so good at it, but a small part of me was oddly proud as well.

A confused look spread across Harry’s soft features, his green eyes narrowing. “What? What are you on about?” He asked. 

Now it was my turn to be confused. “You mean...you mean that’s not what you wanted to talk about?” 

Harry laughed. “No, you git, and you would’ve known that if you had let me finish. I was about to ask you on a date.”

My heart was beating even faster, but now it was because of excitement. “A date?” I repeated. 

“Yes, a date, Adler. You know, holding hands, dinner, maybe a kiss goodnight?” Harry joked, grabbing my hand that was resting on my thigh. He rubbed my knuckles with his thumb, looking intently at my hand. 

“Yes, yes, that sounds wonderful!” I answered, flustered as I curled my fingers around his own, feeling the warmth of his skin slowly heat my fingertips that were always ice-cold at best. His hands were slightly callused from his broomstick, and they nearly swallowed mine whole, which made me feel a bit hot. 

Harry grinned. “It’s a date!”

I looked at his hand gripping mine, then traveled up his toned arm, over his muscled shoulder, and finally at his face, which was already studying my own, making me want to shrink down as he surveyed me. His eyes glanced ever so quickly down at my lips, then back up to meet my gaze. 

The smile dropped from his face, however, when our eyes met. “How do you, y’know, feel about this?” Harry asked, worry written in his eyes. 

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to find the right words, trying to swallow the dread that threatened to consume me every time I so much as thought about commitment. “I...I care about you,” I said slowly, working to piece my thoughts together. “I’ve never felt the kind of...security I do around you with anyone else.” 

That much was true. I had always felt an odd sort of kinship with him because of our depressingly similar backgrounds, and I found him attractive, of course I did, but further than that I had absolutely no clue. Luckily, he cut me off, making relief wash over me.

“It’s cute when you’re shy, you know. I don’t really ever get to see you so...soft,” Harry said, his voice a low whisper. 

“I don’t really like…” I lost my train of thought as I looked at him. “I don’t really like being vulnerable in front of people,” I responded softly, leaning forward the tiniest bit. That was a bit of an understatement. I don’t think I had ever truly, entirely, let my guard down in front of anyone...ever, really. 

I didn’t bother to correct him either; that I wasn’t shy, not really, just emotionally… stunted.

Harry leaned forward, too, his other hand coming up to brush a strand of dark, wavy hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering at the back of my head. “I know, Lainy…” 

We were so close our noses were nearly touching, our breaths mixing together as we took the tiniest mouthfuls of air that were strained from the tension. The only sounds present were the faint turning of pages and the gentle flickering of the lanterns that were sitting on the middle of every table, making it feel like we were the only people in the entire place. “But I like it,” Harry muttered, right before he pressed his lips to mine for the first time in almost a month. 

The kiss started gentle, our mouths reacquainting themselves with the other, Harry’s hand cupping the nape of my neck. I savored the taste of him, warm and pleasant, making me open my mouth a tiny bit wider as I felt my core heat up. I took my free hand and cupped his cheek gently, pulling him in even further. 

Harry groaned softly at my movement, pressing his lips to mine in an even fiercer manner, like he couldn’t possibly get enough. His hand moved from the nape of my neck to gently grab a fistful of hair, tugging my head gently back as he swiped his tongue softly against my lower lip. I met his tongue with my own, the kiss still rather innocent, but it was making my head spin nonetheless. Feeling his calloused hand on my thigh made me tremble with adrenaline. 

I hadn’t been touched so gently in longer than I could possibly remember. 

The kiss continued and it felt like my body was buzzing with electricity, every touch of Harry’s sending heat shooting down my spine. I wrapped my fingers around his onyx hair, feeling its silky texture, and it felt like I never wanted to let go. 

Harry pulled back, though, our hands dropping from each other, and he offered me a breathless smile. “I have been thinking about doing that for a month,” He confessed. 

I hadn’t really let myself even think about him during that three weeks that I isolated myself, so I just nodded in response instead, feeling a bit guilty that I had been able to push the thought of him out of my mind when it seemed as if he hadn’t. I had become scarily good at compartmentalizing, at pushing things out of my head that I was too afraid to face head-on. Thinking about Harry during that time would’ve led me down an entirely horrific self-destructive path, and I just really hadn’t wanted to deal with it. 

“So,” Harry started, turning towards the table we had sat at. “I guess we should study.” His face was solemn, but I could see a glint of humor in his eyes. 

I groaned, making Harry laugh and leaned his head on my shoulder as I pulled out my books to figure out where to begin, even as anxiety rose up within me at the realization of the path I was going down.


	10. Even Monsters Bleed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY some more Malfoy! I know it's a long chapter, but the next will have much more Draco in it, and this one is pretty decent regardless. Content warnings for nsfw, blood, and injuries. Feedback is always welcome! Enjoy:)  
> (edited)

The weekend had finally arrived, and I could not have been happier. Classes were beginning to truly feel like they were drowning me with coursework, and I couldn’t remember the last time I hadn’t gone to the library right after class until I was so tired I could barely make my way back to the Ravenclaw common room. 

Not only was it the weekend, but it was Hogsmeade weekend, which meant Harry’s and I’s first date. I was nervous, though I was entirely confused as to why, because Harry and I had been close for years. Our kiss in the library had been on my mind since Wednesday, and I had fallen asleep that night to the memory of his lips on mine. 

Defense Against the Dark Arts had come and gone with Malfoy still missing, though Luna, when she caught me staring at his empty seat, said in a dreamy voice, “I heard his father called him home. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.” I had protested, saying I wasn’t worried, just curious, and she simply nodded absent-mindedly and went back to her essay that Snape had assigned over three different kinds of jinxes, comparing their similarities and differences. Snape’s nasally voice droned that it had to be 14” long, which elicited a groan from the entire class. I tried to begin working on it during class, but my mind would not stop wandering in a myriad of directions, some of which I had absolutely no control over. 

Like the fact that even though the thought of Malfoy made my chest constrict with rage, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about him anyways. I hadn’t seen him since the beginning of the week, and I was so curious about where he was that I thought I might explode, though I obviously could not mention it to anyone without sounding deranged. My... _fascination_ with someone that I considered my enemy confused even me, as I could not make sense of why my brain was fixating on someone who hated my very existence. There was just something about the way he carried himself, something about the way his cologne always lingered around in my memory even after he’d left, that always left me anticipating our next encounter. 

And when he ran that pale finger down my scar, the day I slapped him. I shuddered. 

“Ms. Adler,” Snape’s voice made me jump as I glanced down at my paper. “Perhaps next time, you can keep your ink in the... upright position.”

I groaned internally, not having noticed my hand had knocked over the pot of liquid, and the black ink was splattered over not only my parchment, but my socks as well. As the ink soaked into the wool, I audibly groaned this time, realizing it meant that I had to begin all over on the ridiculous essay Snape had given out. 

As soon as Snape stalked back up to the front of the class, Luna leaned over and waved her wand, reciting a soft spell that instantly vanished the stain from my paper. I looked at her with a grateful glance, knowing she just saved me at least two hours of work. Luna just hummed gently in response, turning back to her own work. 

Finally, the class was over, the room bustling with students packing up and rushing to get on with their weekend. Luna, as always was taking her time, her head in an entirely different world as she gently put her quill and parchment away. I, on the other hand, was rushing just as fast as the rest of the students to leave, because I wanted ample time to get ready for my date with Harry; the very thought of which had left my stomach in nervous knots the entirety of the day. Shooting a quick goodbye to Luna, though my words fell on deaf ears, I briskly made my way out of the class. I rushed to get ready, though I spent far too long agonizing over the dark kohl around my eyes and the right shade of stupid lipgloss, because somehow, my nerves and excitement collided, creating a wild, unthinking mess. 

Because all I felt were nerves and excitement. No dread, not here. 

Selecting a soft, charcoal sweater that seemed to fall just right over the black jeans I wore, I decided on my boots, swept my hair up in a claw clip and pulling out tendrils to frame my face that bore eyeliner, blush, and the faintest shade of lip color, I rushed out of the dormitory and down the stairs to wait for Hermione, Harry, and Ron outside the Gryffindor common room. Students were milling about, the older ones making their slow way to Hogsmeade, which meant the normal sea of black robes was transformed into a multicolored swirl of different clothing. My boots thunked on the stone steps as I made my way down the stairs of the tower and across the first level of the castle until I reached the staircase that led to the Gryffindor common room, the Fat Lady sitting gracefully atop a wooden stool in the portrait that guarded the door. I leaned against the railing of the staircase just outside the common room, hoping that the three of them were rather quick, because I was incredibly eager to go to Hogsmeade and see and smell all the wonderful autumn themed atmosphere. 

As I waited, I began picking my nails and thinking. Thinking about how I still had no idea what I felt for Harry, that I was so afraid of intimacy in any form that when it happened, my heart nearly stopped. That maybe, Harry could still realize how truly lost I was and how entirely not worth dating me could be. I didn’t know which scared me more: losing Harry, or falling irreversibly in love with him. 

Thankfully, Ron’s loud voice stopped me from having to think about that answer. “‘Lainy, you look brilliant!” He exclaimed, leading Harry and Hermione out of the painting. 

“Thanks, mate! Not looking too rough yourself,” I said, taking in the lot of them. 

Ron was decked with a matching hat and scarf, his worn coat hugging his form, his mittens dangling out of the pockets. Hermione was wearing an incredible shade of blue, her cable-knit sweater making her eyes pop. Her jeans were a soft blush shade, and she, too, had a hat snug on top of her wild curls. Looking at Harry, I nearly choked on a breath. His black hair was uncovered, and styled ever so perfectly messy, and his forest-green jacket made his green eyes shine like dew-soaked grass, made his pale skin and black hair stand out even more. The jacket hugged his frame wonderfully, the sleeves pushed up and exposing his muscled forearms, and his grey jeans looked well-worn in the best way.

“Yeah, ‘Laine, you look beautiful!” Hermione chimed, adjusting her hat. 

Harry hadn’t said a word yet, and I caught his eyes sweeping down my form. Hermione nudged him, and he shook his head. 

“You look...you look,” Harry started, mussing his hair with his fingers nervously. “You look absolutely wonderful, Elaine.”

My face warmed, though I hoped they thought it was just from the warmth inside the castle. 

“Where’s your hat and gloves? It’s bound to be rather chilly this evening,” Hermione said.

Shame rippled through me, not wanting to admit that there hadn’t been enough money, enough care to buy me new winter clothing this year, even though I’d grown a bit over the summer.

“Let’s get going, shall we?” I asked, standing up straight, starting down the steps without answering her question.

Hogsmeade was just as beautiful as I remembered, the shops teeming with students walking in and out, buying loads of sweets and gifts. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow across the entire village, making the autumn decorations come to life. The four of us made our way up the path, the wafting scent of spiced ale and delicious food greeting our noises as we neared the Three Broomsticks.

“Ron and I wanted to go look at some new quills, so we’ll see you later!” Hermione chirped, dragging a reluctant Ron in her wake. 

We waved them goodbye, Harry then turning to me. “You really do look fantastic, y’know that?”

I shrugged, as if to say so-so. “You, as well,” I responded, eyeing his jacket once again. “That color is wonderful on you.”

Harry beamed, and wrapped my hand in his, mine numb from the cold that his gloves protected him from. “Let’s eat. I’m _starving_ ,” Harry urged, pulling me towards the pub. “Plus you look like Rudolph. You need to get out of the cold.”

My heart skipped a beat as he said that, making me realize no one had ever worried about me being out in the cold before. It was such a small thing, and he did sort of poke fun at me, but it made me fill with affection. We walked in, the warm air wrapping around us immediately, making me sigh and rub my arms to heat them. The wonderful mix of food and butterbeer drifted throughout the pub, and I spotted an empty table for two by one of the rectangular glass windows lining the side of the building. 

After ordering our food, we made idle small talk, Harry tracing soft circles on the back of my hands, which were resting on the table. Even the most menial conversations with him felt easy, right; it always had since we met. Our food and butterbeers came, silence falling over us as we ate, though it wasn’t thick or suffocating, but peaceful, calm. Just like it always was with Harry. 

The food sitting comfortably in our stomachs, we sat in front of the crackling fire for a while, letting the heat seep into us as we traded ridiculous anecdotes about the Muggle world we never really brought up with anyone else, talking about movies we had seen or books we’d read that to Hermione’s sure horror, didn’t contain anything educational at all. Harry kept throwing these glances at me that were making my core burn with desire, and I had half a mind to drag him off somewhere and let him know just how much it affected me when he trailed his long fingers against my skin or looked at me with those bright green eyes of his. 

Harry seemed to have the same idea, because he said to me, "Want to get out of here?" 

I nodded vigorously, and we set off, Harry leading me. He hadn't mentioned where we were headed, but the curiousity was nearly killing me as we walked. We walked into Honeyduke's and Harry looked around quickly before ushering me through the back door into the storage room. I began to protest, guessing that we weren't allowed back here, but Harry only shushed me. The storage room was empty, and looking around once more, Harry lifted open a previously hidden hatch in the wooden floor and gestured grandly. 

"One of Fred and George's little tunnels they discovered while they were at Hogwarts. It pops you right out of a statue into an empty hallway!" Harry exclaimed, joyfully mischevious. 

I laughed, excitement ricocheting in my chest. "After you, Potter."

Harry grinned and ducked down into the tunnel, followed by me, and I quickly shut the door as I heard footsteps approaching. Harry was hard to see in the dim light, but he gestured me along and we crawled through the tunnel. After a few minutes, Harry shoved his shoulder against the end of the tunnel, and sure enough, the statue opened to a dimly light, vacant expanse of corridor lined with empty classrooms. 

"Color me impressed," I said to Harry as he offered his hand to help me climb out. 

"I know, I know, I'm fantastic," He joked, as he pushed open one of the doors across the hall and led me in. The room was cosy, a few plush couches and an assortment of cushions and candles littered about the room. Harry quickly lit a fire in the hearth, and as it's warmth seeped through the room, he walked back over to me. "Fred and George took it upon themselves to decorate it a bit, for parties and such. I haven't been here since third year."

I hated to admit it, but the jealously that had been boiling up at the thought of him possibly bringing another girl here was quickly assuaged as he told me that. I smiled at him, and he wrapped his strong arms around my waist, tugging me to him. "You look incredible."

I blushed and shrugged. "I'm alright," I acquiesced. 

Harry's eyes darkened and he shook his head. "You, Elaine, are so much more than just alright. You drive me insane. It's hard for me to keep my hands off of you," He said, growling lowly. 

"Then why do you?" I asked, grinning slightly. 

Harry grinned back at me and captured my mouth in a hot, passionate kiss that was full of longing and lust. His hands gripped my waist tightly, and I brought mine up to run through his dark hair, the strands slightly tangled from the wind outside. My fingers caught on one, making me tug lightly, and a low groan erupted from Harry, making my head spin with desire. I tugged once more, and he bit my lip in response, his hips pressing into mine at the sensation. 

With his mouth still pressed to mine, Harry said, "You're going to make me go insane if you keep doing that."

I smiled against his mouth, and responded. "Doing what?" I asked innocently. 

A low sound rumbled in my chest, and Harry led our still-kissing frames over to a large red couch, sitting down and pulling me on top of his lap, making me straddle him. I slung my knees on either side of his hips, sitting on his lap at his request. As my hips made contact with his, I felt Harry's arousal hard between my legs, and I let out a soft whimper at the connection. Spurred by the obviousness of his desire, I ground my ass against him, feeling his member twitch appreciatively underneath me. Harry, sliding a hand to grab my ass, pressed a rough kiss to my mouth before pulling back and looking at me. 

"Is this okay?" He asked, his voice gruff, and I felt the fire in my core burn bright at the sound. 

"Yeah, yes, I'm okay," I assured him. "I won't be if you don't kiss me again though."

Harry laughed and brought his fiery mouth to the tender skin of my neck, finding the sweet spot that lay just beneath my ear. My hips bucked as he scraped his teeth along the sensitive spot, and I felt him laugh underneath me at my response. He bit down, harder this time, and the painful pleasure mix made my brain go entirely foggy with lust. This was really as far as I'd ever gone with anyone, but I felt so at ease, so safe, that I didn't ever want it to stop. Harry's hands found the hem of my sweater, and he tugged at it gently, indicating that he wanted it off. I quickly complied, pulling it up over my head, revealing the bra that I wore underneath. Goosebumps pricked my skin at the cold air, but Harry's eyes were practically glued to my chest, still heaving from the wild kisses he had been giving me earlier. 

"Shit," Harry whispered, looking at the curves of my chest. "I...fuck."

My face warmed under his intense gaze, but I felt rather complimented that just the sight of my chest left him so speechless. "God, Elaine, you are so fucking beautiful," He said, finally looking back at my eyes. 

"Thank you," I answered softly. "You know, I've--"

Harry nodded. "I know, and we don't have to go any further than you want. We don't even have to go further than this."

I flushed as I tried to find the courage to tell him that all I wanted right now was his hands and mouth all over me. The burning in my core was growing unbearable, and I could feel how aroused I was any time I shifted my hips. "I want more," I told him, stammering slightly. "Please."

Harry's member twitched beneath me at my words, and he nodded excitedly. "Why don't you lay back?" 

I slid off his lap, my knees slightly shaky from their extended time in a bent position, and lied back on the couch, nerves coiling in my stomach. Harry's eyes roamed over my form appreciatively, before pulling off his jacket to reveal a white undershirt. He sat by my feet, gently guiding my legs apart so that he could fit into the empty space, and he leaned over me, pressing a gentle kiss to my mouth. 

"Please, if you want to stop at any time, let me know," He told me, looking at me intently. "I know that it can be scary at first, and I-I wanna make it good for you, and if there's anything you like, you know," He stammered, his previously suave air gone. 

I giggled, placing a hand on his cheek. "I will, don't worry." 

Harry placed another kiss to my mouth, more fervent this time, and he slid a hand up my torso to cup one of my breasts, making me arch into his touch. His other hand trailed down to my hips, pressing softly into the tender spot between my legs and making me moan in surprise at his touch there. He began making lazy circles, making a constant string of whines escape my mouth as his touch caused pleasure to shoot through me. Moving his hand that had previously been on my chest up to my neck, he gently wrapped his callused hand around the column of my throat. Pulling back but keep his hand moving between my legs, he looked at me, lust fiery in his eyes. 

"That feel good?" He asked, his voice rough. 

I nodded quickly, biting my lip, but he shook his head. "No, I want to hear you tell me how good it feels."

My cheeks flushed at the command, but I spoke, my voice weak. "It feels so good, I-I" I stammered, the wetness between my legs growing with each second. "Can you.." I started, not entirely sure what I was asking of him, but he seemed to understand. 

Harry's long fingers deftly undid my belt and the button of my pants before I could really even register his movements, and slowly, god so _slowly_ , he dipped his fingers under the waistband of my pants and then my underwear until he reached my aching clit, making me draw in a shocked breath. Harry's fingers began to softly tease me, and I nearly whined because all I could think about was wanting more. 

Harry's fingers dipped down lower, feeling the wetness that had collected between my thighs. "Holy shit," He growled. "Feel how wet you are for me?" 

His words sent arousal panging through me, and I moved my hips in hopes that he would give me the pleasure that I wanted so badly. Harry, though, wasn't having it, and clamped a hand down on my hip, pinning me in place. "You need to be patient, Elaine," He warned me, before pressing gently against my soaking entrance. "I don't want to hurt you."

"S-sorry," I said, unable to form proper words as two of his thick fingers began to enter me, making me moan. "Fuck, Harry."

Harry, his other hand still lightly pressing into my throat, brushed a soft kiss to my forehead. "Just relax, okay?"

I nodded, and he pushed his fingers in further, causing a sensation between my hips that I had never felt before. It was like an ache, like my body needed more, but I let Harry slowly pump his fingers in and out, going deeper every time, until he was pushing his entire digit into me, and suddenly, he curled his fingers slightly, causing my body to shudder with the most intense pleasure I had ever felt. "Fuck!" I exclaimed, my hand flying up to grip his strong forearm for stability. 

Harry's eyes danced with amusement. "Feels amazing, doesn't it? God, you look so beautiful like this." 

I whined as he withdrew his fingers, going to sit up, but he pushed me roughly back down, sending me a heated gaze. He grabbed the band of my pants and pulled them down, tossing them away from me and quickly returning to his place between my legs. I, to my surprise, didn't feel embarrassed at all about how naked I was, but I didn't have much time to think anyways as he plunged his fingers back into my warmth, making me let out a pleasured whimper. His pace picked up, and as he brushed that incredible spot inside of me, he kissed me roughly, his lips hot and feverish against mine. 

He moved trailed kisses down to my chest, his hand still pumping in and out of me as he bit at the soft flesh of my chest, making me swear as he began to leave marks all over the expanse of my chest. Moving even lower, he pressed gently kisses down my torso, scraping my skin occasionally with his teeth, before reaching my aching hips. Looking up at me, he withdrew his fingers, soaked in my arousal, and clamped his hands around the insides of my thighs pressing them apart. The absence of his fingers made me squirm impatiently, but Harry made up for it by pressing his mouth to my clit, flicking it once, twice, with his tongue. Involuntarily, I pressed my hips into his mouth, so desperate for the release of the pleasure that I could feel building, and Harry grinned cheekily at me. 

"Eager, aren't we?" He teased. 

"Oh, shut up," I whined, sending him an insistent look. 

"What, do you want more?" 

I groaned, throwing my head back onto the couch. "God, I hate you. Yes, I want more, please," I implored, lifting my hips in anticipation. 

Harry chuckled, and at the same time, wrapped his mouth around my clit and entered into me once more, making me moan so loudly I was worried someone might here. Between his fingers curling and hitting that wonderful spot inside me, and his mouth moving so deliciously on my clit, I felt my release building rapidly, my walls clenching around Harry's fingers as he worked. A constant stream of curses and moans were escaping my mouth as Harry fucked me, and I grabbed his hair, tugging on it gently, making him groan into me. 

"Harry, I-" I began, panting heavily. 

Harry just nodded against me, and with renewed fervor, began fingering me as I felt myself about to tip over the precipice of pleasure. His fingers suddenly curled in just the right way, and an overwhelming feeling of release flooded me, making spots dance in my vision as Harry continued to fuck me through the wave of pleasure. I could barely take in a breath as it washed over me, and as I came down, my legs shook with the exertion and how tightly they had been tensed. Harry pulled out of me slowly, making sure not to hurt me, and looked at me, his eyes full of affection. I lay there panting, trying to calm down, and Harry grabbed my pants and helped me put them back on, doing the belt before reaching out his hand to help me sit up. I grabbed it and he tugged me up, handing me my sweater, his mouth red and swollen from his movements. Putting my sweater on, I leaned my head against Harry's shoulder, completely wiped from my orgasm. 

"Was that, um-"

"That was amazing," I assured him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I've never, you know, and um, that was, fuck, Harry," I said, giggling at my inability to speak. "That was so good. Do you...?"

Harry shook his head. "No, no, I'm fine. I just wanted to make you feel good today. We've got plenty of time for all that other stuff."

I looked at him fondly, cuddling him for a moment or two more before we decided to go back to Hogsmeade.

We had just popped through the door to the main bit of the shop when we saw Hermione and Ron through the window, walking on the cobblestone street and carrying a few bags with them. Exchanging pleasantries, we set off once again in the frigid wind, Hogsmeade’s warmth fading behind us. 

The castle was void of life as we entered through the massive front doors, everyone either still out at Hogsmeade or up in their dormitories studying or sleeping. The sky had turned a wonderful indigo as we walked, sparkling stars beginning to peek through the foggy clouds hovering over the grounds. Ron and Hermione were hand in hand, and I had tucked my arm through Harry’s elbow during the walk; at one point I had nearly slipped and cracked my head on the short stone wall lining the path, so Harry extended his arm out to me and I hadn’t let go since. Though the night was rather young, the coziness of our beds were calling our names, so we decided to call it a night, walking towards the Gryffindor common room. 

Hermione and Ron were a few steps ahead of us, talking softly. The dread that had been swirling in my stomach had disappeared sometime during dinner, and I thought that maybe I could do this, maybe I wasn’t so damaged that I couldn’t even spend time with someone I had feelings for, which made me smile. 

“What’s that pretty grin for?” Harry asked, nudging me gently as we walked up the stairs. 

“Oh, nothing,” I responded. “Just had a wonderful night with this boy I really like,” I teased.

Harry smiled, his eyes crinkling with happiness. “Me too, ‘Lainy.” He pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head, his breath warm on my skin.

We reached the top of the stairs just as Hermione and Ron ducked through the door. Harry turned to me, his hand coming to rest on my hip as I looked up at his angular face. 

“I hope you know this wasn’t that date I had mentioned,” Harry said, using his other hand to brush a strand of hair that had fallen over my eye away. “I’ve got something really wonderful planned, and yes, before you ask, Hermione did plan basically the whole thing.”

I snorted, rolling my eyes good-naturedly, though I can’t admit I wasn’t a bit excited that our dinner tonight hadn’t been an official date. “‘Course she did. Where would any of us be without her?” I asked.

Harry shook his head, his black hair catching the dim torchlight. “No clue. No clue at all,” He answered, tugging on the hem of my sweater to urge me closer, until I was nearly pressed up against his chest. 

My hand came up to rest on the strong plane of his torso, feeling the heavy fabric of his jacket beneath my fingers. Instead of waiting for him to kiss me, I perched up on my tiptoes, and pressed a featherlight kiss to his wind-chapped lips that tasted like autumn air and butterbeer. 

Harry hummed in response, and cupped my cheek with his hand as I kissed him. I pulled back after a few moments, heat radiating in my middle. “Goodnight, Potter,” I whispered softly, taking in his familiar smell of patchouli and something faintly wooden, like the faint smell of his broom. 

“Goodnight, Adler,” Harry said, his fingers twirling my hair. “Sweet dreams.”

He turned and walked through the portrait with one last glance at me, and I started down the stairs, my footsteps echoing in the empty air that surrounded me. I decided to take the long way back to my common room, to enjoy the rare atmosphere of quiet and to give myself time to think. That feeling of awfulness that was gnawing at my chest had subsided the smallest bit in the past few days, though being around Harry was still a terrible mess of feelings ranging from happiness and comfort to feeling a trapped animal looking for a way to escape. 

It was complicating things, to say the least. 

I hoped that no one had noticed the way I tended to flinch when Harry would grab my hand suddenly, or the way I would subtly curl my fingers into my hand, my nails digging into my palm, at odd moments throughout the day when the panicky feeling became a little too much. I _hated_ feeling this way; hated every single moment that my heart sped up or that my stomach dropped, because it reminded me that I was damaged, that I would never get a normal sort of love. It hurt to think that, even though as far as I knew, it was absolutely true. Though Harry knew more than anyone, I still hadn’t told him everything, hadn’t let him see the deepest, most ruined parts of me that I did my best to bury deep and never, ever think about. The thought of being completely known by someone was petrifying, but the thought of _never_ having anyone know every part of me, and still staying? Or worse, telling someone everything about me and having them leave?

I’d rather face the worst evil in the world than confront the fact that I didn’t really believe anyone would ever truly be able to love me in my entirety. 

The chilly air brushed against me as I walked, so deeply engrossed in my thoughts that I didn’t notice the violently red drops of blood that were splattered on the floor. At first, they were sparse, spilled every few feet, but as I walked and finally noticed the liquid, they were painted on the ground with alarming frequency, growing larger and larger, as if whoever they had come from was bent over. The drops led down the hall and rounded the corner, and I took a second to decide whether or not I wanted to follow, because knowing this place, I was about to entangle myself in something that I might end up regretting. 

I considered just turning around, ignoring what I had found, but a tug in my gut told me I’d have a guilty conscience forever if I decided not to follow. Taking a deep breath, I followed the trail, the drops turning bigger and bigger as I rounded the corner. Kneeling by the wall, a boy in a white shirt was groaning softly in pain, his head dipped low and a steady stream of red coming from what looked like more than one cut. The sight of so much blood jarred me, but a loud whimper cleared the shock from my head, and I rushed forward. 

“Holy shit, are you al---” My voice dropped off as the boy turned his face to meet mine, and I should’ve known, should’ve guessed that only my luck could be this horrifically terrible. 


	11. A World of Pain for Us Both

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tons of Malfoy in this chapter! I really am quite pleased with this, so I hope you enjoy! Content warnings for: blood, bruising, injuries, mentions of parental abuse, slight allusion to suicidal thoughts (just one line. I think that's all the warnings needed but if someone finds one I missed, please let me know!  
> (edited)

Malfoy’s face was bruised, a large cut spanning over the arch in his left brow. His lip was split too, and though I still couldn’t clearly see his torso, I could see that his large, pale hands were turned crimson with fresh blood.

“Of course,” Malfoy gritted his teeth, very obviously in pain. “Fuck off, Adler. I can’t deal wi---” He stopped short as his entire body seized, his breath coming out in short wheezes. 

Anger flared in me at the fact that he had the audacity to still be a prick, even when he was _bleeding out_ , but I stayed. If not only because I finally had the fucking chance to repay him for saving my life. 

“What happened?” I asked, walking closer until I was standing less than a foot away, close enough to notice the bright blood trickling through the cracks in the stone floor. 

Malfoy shook his head, his blond hair streaked with dirt. “None of your--” A gasp cut him off, the amount of blood pouring out of him starting to concern me.

I felt myself begin to panic, because it had just hit me that it was now my responsibility to make sure this asshole stayed alive. I had only ever patched up my own wounds, and had no clue how to deal with something this severe. He most likely had a concussion, judging by the bruising on his sharp jaw, and his right shoulder looked odd and misshapen. Trying to think through the cloud of anxiety that hovered over my brain, I began listing off to myself what I needed to do and quickly. 

_First, find somewhere where Malfoy can lie down so he won’t bleed to death in a hallway._

Looking around to see if we were anywhere close to help, I realized...maybe.... I finally really looked at where we were, and as I saw the familiar twin torches that stood guard outside of the entrance to the Room of Requirement, relief washed over me like a calming wave, thanking my lucky stars that my thought-filled wandering had led me here, of all places. It was even better because I knew that there was no way Malfoy wanted anyone to see him like this, I was sure of it.

_Okay, good start. Now I just have to get Malfoy to the doors. Easy, right?_

Taking a breath, I crouched so that my face was level with his. “You have to get up so I can get you to the Room of Requirement. You’re lucky as hell that’s where you ended up,” I said, looking at his eyes that were foggy with blood loss. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

Though my voice was calm, my hand trembled as I held it out, but whether it was from all the blood, or the distaste of being so close to someone I despised so much, I didn’t know. Malfoy seemed to think for a moment, the blood still pouring out from where his left hand was pressed to his stomach. As he straightened, I saw his normally pristine white shirt was riddled with slashes and spurts of blood, dirt mixing with the blood in some places to make an awful muddy red paste. He looked as if he were about to vomit, and I didn’t know if it was from pain or his likely revulsion at touching someone like me, but he reached his hand up to grasp mine in a grip that was so tight I nearly cried out. Biting down on my own pain, I hauled him upright, seeing that he refused to put pressure on his right leg. I positioned myself on his right so that he could lean his tall frame against my smaller one, and though his weight made my knees buckle, I began the short walk to the entrance of the Room of Requirement, making sure that my steps were light and even so that Malfoy would be comfortable. 

Well, as comfortable as someone who had lost a dangerous amount of blood could be. 

As we neared the entrance, the doors began appearing, the curled metal slowly fading into view until they were fully formed. I didn’t know exactly what would be on the other side, but I prayed that it would have what I needed to save Malfoy, which still sounded absolutely ridiculous. Grunting with the effort, I managed to maneuver so that I could shove open the door without Malfoy falling over, the slight jostling disrupting the blood that was just beginning to clot.

The door opened to reveal a small, cozy room with a single bed made up with crisp white sheets not unlike the ones in the hospital wing, and the entire right wall was filled with tonics and potions and... _yes._ Bandages and thread. 

Not realizing that I had Malfoy’s blood warming my side, dripping down my arm and hand, I guided him to the bed, though I could tell he was barely conscious and fighting the urge to pass out. That made my stomach sink, realizing that I had to work quickly, or he very well could actually die. 

_Holy shit, Malfoy could_ die. 

Setting him down on the bed, I helped him lay back, his eyes fluttering and his face horribly pale. His white shirt was now almost completely varying shades of red and pink, and his skin was clammy with sweat. Once I was sure he wouldn’t fall off the bed, I rushed to the wall on the opposite side of the little square room, searching for...there it was. The antiseptic we had made last Potions class, the one Slughorn had taught so ironically for a situation just like this.

He probably hadn’t meant a situation as bad as this. 

Returning to the wounded boy on the bed, I set the bottle on the bedside table, and grimaced as I realized I’d have to remove his shirt to treat the wounds properly. 

“Sorry, I’m going to have to take your shirt off. It’s…” I trailed off, not wanting to mention how badly ruined it was. 

Malfoy sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t care. Just do it.”

I nodded, even though his eyes were still closed. With trembling hands, I began unbuttoning his shirt as quickly as I could manage, the blood making the smooth buttons impossibly slick. I did my best to not disturb any of his injuries, but it was nearly impossible with how extensive they were. By the time I reached the top, my hands were painted with crimson, and as I slid his shirt down the sides of his torso, I winced at the sight of him. I pushed the shirt off his tense shoulders, being extra cautious with the right one that was hanging so limply in its socket. Tugging the sleeve down, I slipped it over his right hand and then his left, leaving it bunched under him as I was too scared to move him anymore. Malfoy was now naked from the waist up, and though it was admittedly beautiful, the gore destroyed any pleasant thoughts one would've had about it.

Because I would obviously never look at Malfoy like that.

There was a deep gash spanning nearly his entire right side, from just below his muscled pectoral to his protruding hip bone, a jagged cut that ran three inches across his sternum, and his ribs and abdomen were nearly entirely blossomed with sickening shades of purple and red, the bruising running down to below the waistband of his black pants, which made me flush slightly as I followed its path down his body. It was so...vicious, so _gruesome_. I had never seen anything so awful. Malfoy hadn’t moved the entire time I was removing his shirt, his face contorted with silent pain and his hands clenched in such tight fists his knuckles were ghostly white. Steeling myself, I began.

The purple liquid greeted my nose with the stinging smell of something like rubbing alcohol as I unstoppered it, filling up the little dropper that had been resting in the bottle until it was completely full, my fingers struggling to grip it as they were still soaked with blood. I wasn’t sure if this was strong enough to really fix Malfoy’s multitude of wounds, but it was the only thing I was familiar enough with to trust myself to use it. Deciding that warning him would only make it worse, I began dropping the shining liquid onto the long cut on his side, the potion sizzling and smoking as it worked its magic. Malfoy shouted a colorful curse that would’ve had even Snape scolding him, but I ignored him. The gash slowly began to close, not all the way, but enough that I was confident enough to use it on his other cut, as well as the one above his eye. As I filled the dropper again, Malfoy’s eyes shot open, and he grabbed my wrist. 

“Don’t you fucking dare, you bitch,” He growled, though his voice was weak enough that the venom in his voice barely registered. 

I shook his hand off, though his touch had sent heat down my arm, and applied the potion again, earning another inventive string of curse words. 

The split lip could heal on its own, and I had no idea what to do about the bruising or the dislocated shoulder, and the injury on his leg was too high to get to without removing Malfoy’s pants, and I wasn’t quite sure if I was ready for that after everything that had just happened. 

I put the bottle back down, watching as his flesh began pulling itself back together, though the largest one still remained a bit open and raw. The bleeding had slowed so much that most of the remaining red was just dried blood, and his breathing, which had been ragged and shallow, turned somewhat normal and slow. The tiniest bit of color kissed his face, and I sighed, sure now that he wasn’t going to die, that he’d live to torment me another day. 

_Wonderful._

I tried to tell myself that maybe he would be kinder after this, but I knew it was a ridiculous notion even as I thought it. Malfoy’s icy eyes flickered open, the cloud on them mostly gone. Taking in his surroundings, his eyes landed on me and I expected some sort of threat, or curse, or something. But instead:

“This is the first time I’ve never been repulsed by the sight of you,” Malfoy said, his voice still weak and broken, as if he had been screaming. 

I snorted unkindly, knowing that I was covered in filth and blood, _his_ blood, and I probably looked like I had just left a rather bloody horror film.

Swallowing as if it hurt to speak, Malfoy said, “You realize if you ever tell anyone about this, I really will kill you."

I looked at Malfoy from where I was now sitting in the wooden chair that had appeared right when I thought a place to sit might be nice. 

“I save your pathetic ass, and you threaten me? Nice to know almost bleeding out doesn’t change a person,” I snap. “My hands are literally still caked with your fresh blood, Malfoy.” I gestured down, pointing out the way his blood had dried into a rust layer on top of my skin, blood even caked under my nails and around my wrists. 

“I didn’t ask you to save me, you fucking idiot!” Malfoy growled, our conversation now oddly reminiscent of the one we had when he had saved me. “You just couldn’t mind your own fucking business, could you? You have to always be the center of attention, the _hero_ ,” He sneered. 

My face flushed with anger, and I knew it was wrong, but I stood up, feigning needing something from the shelves on the opposite wall, and bumped into the bed hard. Hard enough to earn a groan of pain from Malfoy and making him clutch his healing, still-bare torso, which made satisfaction burst in my chest. 

“God, you fucking filthy bitch. How dare you?” Malfoy said through gritted teeth. 

It had been a long day, and that was the straw that broke my proverbial camel’s back. I whirled around, throwing the roll of thick gauze bandages that I had just grabbed from a shelf at his head, narrowly missing and hitting his shoulder. I stomped over to his bed, rage making my vision go spotty for a moment, standing so that I was level with his abdomen. 

I gestured up and down at his body, as if to point out all his injuries. “I come across you in a hallway, gravely injured for some unknown reason, and even though you have been nothing but a massive, incorrigible, horrifically vile son of a bitch to me, I still help you because you were going to fucking die, Malfoy. _Die_! And you still treat me like I’m less than the dirt on your shoes? I wish whoever did this to you actually completed the damn job!” I yelled, my voice somehow steady though my hands were shaking with anger. The moment the words came out, I regretted them, a pit forming in my stomach. 

“Malfoy, I didn’t---” I started, but his face had gone stony, no emotions peaking through, no anger, no curses, just...cold, unfeeling. 

Horrifying.

His voice, raw and low, sounded cold as he spoke. “You’re right, they should’ve.”

Surprise rang through me at his words. “What? You don’t mean that,” I said, but I wasn’t entirely convinced of my own words. 

Malfoy chuckled, but there was no humor to it; it was a dry, bitter sound, furthered by the soreness of his throat. “It was because of you, you know.”

“Me? How could this have been because of me? What, you think I fucking set someone after you?” I asked incredulously, barely believing what I was hearing. 

Propping himself up on his good shoulder, a small sound of pain escaping him, Malfoy looked up at me, at the blood caked on my shirt and pants and hands and the small streaks that had somehow gotten on my face. “My father found out that I saved you, that I saved a _Mudblood_ , and he was less than pleased.” He laughed bitterly again.

Nausea ran through me as he called me _that_ , but I let him continue, watching his brow bead with sweat because of the pain he was in. 

“So yes, _Elaine_ ,” He spat, and a distant thought ran through my head that that was the first time he had ever called me by my first name. “It was because of you. Because I went insane for two moments, let my emotions get ahead of me, I nearly got beat to death by my own father, who didn’t finish the job only because it would’ve been too complicated, too _messy_. So excuse me if I’m in a bit of a sour fucking mood.” 

He stayed propped up for a moment, but his shoulder buckled under him and he laid back down with a soft grunt. Malfoy’s gaze moved to the ceiling, his face still unreadable. 

Trying to process what I just heard, I sat back down in my chair, the feet scraping softly against the floor. “You’re saying that because you saved my life, your father _punished_ you? Because I’m a fucking M-M---” I couldn’t force myself to say it. “Because I’m Muggle-born?” I still didn’t understand what I was hearing. 

“You really are a fucking idiot, aren’t you? Yes, Adler,” a tiny, miniscule pang hit me when he called me my last name. “Saving your life nearly cost me my own. And no, before you ask, it wasn’t fucking worth it,” Malfoy deadpanned, his gaze still stuck on the ceiling. 

His words stung, but I reminded myself that he did nearly just die, so he was bound to be a bit...moody. 

_Yeah, just a bit moody, idiot._

“I wasn’t going to ask that,” I replied. Wondering and asking are not the same. “But-but...for what it’s worth, thank you.”

Malfoy let out a snort and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure, no problem at all,” He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Didn’t cost me a single damn thing.” 

I tried to reign in my frustration, because it almost felt...wrong to be angry at him right now. Maybe it was the pity I felt. Maybe I was just going crazy. 

“H-how,” I stammered, cursing myself for letting this situation get to me, even though it had been the strangest thing I’d ever experienced. “Um, how are you feeling?” 

“Just fucking brilliant. I could run a marathon,” Malfoy snapped, and I winced, admitting to myself it was a stupid question. 

“Well, I’ll see if there’s anything else that might help over on the shelf,” I mumbled, standing up once more. 

The shelves were filled with almost every tonic available, but I barely recognized half of them; my tendency towards inattentiveness in Potions was coming back to bite me in the ass, and I cursed myself. I scanned and scanned, hoping I would stumble across something to no avail. Not wanting to seem stupid, not in front of Malfoy, I continued my pointless search. 

“Bruisewort Balm,” Malfoy interrupted. “Third shelf down, the little green and blue tin with the black cap.” 

Though my face flushed and I considered ignoring him for a moment, I picked out the little tin, the faint smell of chamomile escaping to greet my nose. Making my way to the side of Malfoy’s bed, I unscrewed the cap and placed it next to his leg. The balm was yellow, almost buttery, and seemed rather thick, which meant…

Malfoy seemed to reach the same conclusion I did, judging by the way we both winced. 

“Just get on with it,” He demanded, once again staring at the ceiling. 

Anxiety rippled through me at the thought of touching him so...intimately, even though it was just his torso. 

_And his hip bone; a bit lower, even._

Ignoring my usurping thoughts, I dipped my fingers into the tub, scooping out a generous amount of the paste, deciding to start at the top of the bruise near the bottom of his chest, which was still. The smell of camomile swirled in the air as I placed the balm on Malfoy’s smooth, cold skin, reminding me eerily of marble. I began spreading the treatment along his side, trying not to be too rough and trying to touch him as little as possible, though as I was quite literally caressing his naked chest, I was having difficulty with that last bit. The dollop of salve I had fished out was running out, so I scooped more and started anew at the bottom of his ribs, working my way down to the nightmare expanse that was the pale skin disappearing beneath his waistband. I tried not to think about it, about the way the blues and purples were probably swirled around his hip bone, painted across his lower abdomen.

If Malfoy had had the ability to read minds, I think I would’ve just thrown myself into the crackling fire that was roaring in the middle of the back wall. Luckily, Malfoy couldn’t, and his attention seemed fixated on anywhere besides my ministrations. I was wildly grateful for that, because I could feel a blush blooming in my cheeks and creeping down my neck. I continued working the salve down his muscled middle, the skin underneath my hand firm and corded with strength, though he was still rather thin. Down, down, down, until I reached the band of his pants, the top of his hip just barely jutting out from underneath it. I sucked in a soft breath at the sight of his sharp bone, the height of it creating a small gap between it and his stomach so that I could see that the bruise did indeed continue much farther down. 

Sure that Malfoy would most likely cut my hand off if I touched him so low, I wiped the excess balm on the sheet and tightened the lid back onto the tin. The bruises were slowly changing color, the very top ones already a sickly mix of yellow and green. 

_Good. Just a few more things_. 

Looking back over Malfoy’s body to see what else needed my attention, I recalled the massive bruise on the other side of his face, and grabbed the tin to apply one last bit of balm. 

“I’m going to just put this on the bruise on your jaw, but I’ll be gentle, okay? It looks sore,” I said. “Can you turn your face towards me?” 

Malfoy rolled his eyes, but took his gaze from wherever he had been looking and tilted his face towards me so that the bruise on his jaw was illuminated by the yellow glow of the firelight. It was worse than most of the ones on his stomach and chest; it was nearly the size of a Galleon, the middle a midnight purple, a ring of red and blue swirling around it, like whatever had hit him hadn’t been quite the size of a fist, but rather…

_Oh._ His father’s infamous cane that was topped with a solid silver snake’s head could possibly make a mark like that. No wonder he had been so out of focus when I first found him. That thing would be blindingly painful to get struck by, and by the vicious shades of blues and purples, it looked like it had not been a light hit. His eyes caught mine scanning the bruise intently, and he shook his head. 

“Just put the damn stuff on and stop feeling bad for me Adler,” He said, though there was little malice in his voice. 

I nodded, and lifted a small bit of the paste out of the tin, bringing my hand to the side of his face. The bruise was placed in such a way that I had to sort of cup his face while spreading it, and I prayed he couldn’t feel my fingers trembling ever so slightly. I leaned over him, trying not to bump the bed this time. He winced as I pressed a bit too hard, and I whispered a soft apology, and continued. I could feel the smallest bit of stubble peaking through his skin, and his jaw was clenched so tight I didn’t know how it wasn’t hurting him. I tried not to look at him while I worked, but my face was only a small distance from his; I was so close I could smell the autumn air that still clung to his clothes, the faint spice of his cologne, and the metallic tinge of blood. I could see the faint circles that looped his under eyes, the brilliant shades of silver and grey that made up his irises. Malfoy had a strange sort of cold beauty around him, even as he was injured and dirty. It was far more intriguing to me than I would ever admit. I smoothed the last bit of balm into his skin, my hand lingering for a moment longer that I needed to, before pulling away. 

“It should start to feel better rather quickly,” I informed him, judging by the bruises that were nearly gone on his stomach. “I think that you’ll be good as new in no time.”

Malfoy just turned his head back away from me. “Wonderful,” He droned. “Can’t use my arm, and my leg is torn to shreds, but yeah, good as new.” 

I swallowed the angry retort that rose in me as I replaced the salve and grabbed bandages. “I know how to relocate shoulders, you prick, I just figured you’d be too much of a pansy to have me do it. It hurts like a bitch,” I informed him, placing the bandages on the table. 

Malfoy snarled at me. “I’m not a fucking bitch. Do it.” 

“You could at least say please,” I mumbled, though I gestured for him to sit up. He panted with effort, finally pulling himself up to lean against the wall the bed was on, his abdominal muscles straining with the movement. “This is going to hurt, but if you sit still, it’ll be over before you know it.” 

He nodded, pursing his lips. I grabbed his arm and bent his elbow, wrapping one hand there and the other around his wrist. I had...conveniently forgotten to mention that I had only ever done this once on myself and it hadn’t gone very well, but I knew the theory behind it, and I figured he didn’t really have a better option. Forgoing a countdown once again, I took in a deep breath and _shoved_ , hearing a sickening pop and a cry of pain from Malfoy, but his shoulder now rested in the socket, instead of dangling awfully at his side. 

“Thank Merlin,” I said, letting go of his arm. 

Malfoy did a few rotations of his fixed shoulder, then stopped. “What do you mean, _thank Merlin_?” He asked, anger lacing his words. 

“Last time I tried that, it didn’t really...go so well,” I said, shrugging as if to say it wasn’t a big deal. 

“So you just decided to try it out on me without knowing it would work? Un-fucking-believable,” Malfoy retorted. “It shouldn’t surprise me though. I’m sure most of what you do is guessing out of your ass and seeing if it works out.”

“At least I don’t rely on my daddy’s money to do everything for me. You’ve never had to do a single damn thing for yourself, so these little insults you throw at me mean nothing coming from you,” I sneered, though I knew it was a lie. Of course it was. “You can’t even fucking torment me about my parents anymore, you realize that, right? Because whatever the hell you’ve heard about my father,” I said, leaning forward so that I was right in his face, “I’ve seen first-hand what yours does to you, and can you imagine how he would feel knowing I saved your pathetic, spoiled ass?” My words were dark, angry, and I knew I was entering territory that I shouldn’t; territory, that if I continued, there would be no coming back from. “Sure, my father has hit me, yelled at me, put out cigarettes on my fucking skin, given me this,” I gestured to the long line on my forearm, “from the broken edge of whiskey bottle that he thought I drank, and it bled so bad I passed out on my bathroom floor covered in my own blood. But he has never tried to _kill_ me.” 

_Not on purpose, anyways._

I searched his stormy eyes for any trace of emotion, retaliation, anything, but they were like steel, my heart pounding as I realized Malfoy, of all people, was the first person I told about the origins of the scar on my arm, about the small raised scars that littered my stomach and chest. As we held each other’s gaze, the air in the room seemed to thicken with tension, my chest still heaving in anger, his floating softly up and down as he regarded me cooly. I started to pull out of his space, but his hand shot up and grabbed a fistful of my ruined charcoal sweater, yanking me back towards him. His pink mouth lifted in a snarl, his breath brushing my face as he spoke. 

“You tell anyone about _anything_ that happened tonight,” Malfoy began, his eyes burning with intensity, “and you won’t wake up the next morning, you worthless piece of shit. Do you understand?” 

I gulped softly, actual fear cooling the anger that had previously filled my senses. “Yeah, Malfoy, _got it_ ,” I responded, hatred spilling through my voice. 

I pulled myself out of his grasp, regret bursting through me. I shouldn’t have followed the drops of blood, and I should have _never_ even considered helping Malfoy. What did I think was going to happen? I save his life and he suddenly is kind to me? I was delusional at best if I thought that, because I knew his hatred, his anger ran deeper than anything else inside of him. 

Picking up the dropped bandages, I set it on his bed. “You can patch yourself up the rest of the way, asshole. I’m done helping you.” And I meant it.

Really, I did. 

Malfoy looked from me to the bandages, and back again, his sharp face still angry. “Fine, Adler. Fuck off, then. I’m sick of looking at your ugly face,” he sneered. 

Heat flushed in my face. I wasn’t ugly; at least _I_ didn’t think so. But I didn't have the silky hair like Cho, or the figure like Hermione; I wasn’t striking, I wasn’t eye catching, I was just...average, but I wasn’t ugly and---and---

_And why do you care so much about what he thinks?_

I didn’t--or I shouldn’t. Shaking my head, I turned to walk over to the fire, wishing I had a mirror or a wash bin or something to clean myself up with, because I could feel the layer of grime covering me like a suffocating blanket. To the left of the invitingly warm fireplace, a clear mirror and silver bowl appeared, the bowl seemingly attached to the wall like it was floating. 

_God, what a wonderful room._

I walked into the view of the mirror, and grimaced at the sight of myself. Much of my hair had escaped the claw clip I had pinned it up with, the tendrils that were hanging down half-soaked in blood. My sweater was hanging off one shoulder, the sleeves crusted with rust brown, and my pants had bloody streaks on them from either me wiping my hands on them, or Malfoy’s from when I walked him into this room. My hands were a gory nightmare; it looked like I was wearing crimson gloves, the blood in crescents under my nails, and it ran up to the middle of my forearms. I looked...terrible, really. Rolling up my sleeves that were beginning to fall down, I dipped my hands in the water filling the basin, finding it pleasantly hot. Using the soap that had appeared with it, I began scrubbing my skin so hard that I was sure it would be red and raw afterwards, but I couldn’t stand the blood on my hands anymore; if I didn’t get it off, I was almost certain I might vomit. It wasn’t an easy task, and just my hands alone took nearly ten minutes, Malfoy just laying silently all the while. 

After my hands were mostly clean, with the exception of tiny flecks of blood I couldn't get from under my nails, I fished my wand out of my boot, remembering for the first time that day that I still had it, and used a simple charm to clean the mess off my sweater and jeans. Pulling the claw clip out of the tangled mess that was my hair, I shook my hair out, feeling it fall down around my shoulders, and after combing through it with my fingers, I noticed Malfoy staring at me in the reflection of the mirror. 

“What,” I demanded, not turning around. “Thought you were sick of looking at me.”

Malfoy quickly averted his gaze. “I am.” 

I snorted. “Whatever, prick.” 

Taking in my reflection after a few minutes of sorting through my hair, cleaning up my makeup, and readjusting my clothes, I was finally looking half-decent, though I did take extra care to fix up my hair, as I would sooner die than have someone see me walk out of this room followed by Malfoy with wild hair. Even just the _implication_ of that thought had my lip curling with disgust. 

Feeling clean and put together again, I turned around, finally really taking in Malfoy’s state. His bloodied shirt was still bunched underneath his torso, which looked much better, but was still caked with dried liquid. His face was less pale, but he had still lost a lot of blood and it would probably take him a few days to feel completely better. His lip was split and red, though the rest of his face was healed. The black pants that he wore were in the best shape out of everything, though I remembered the limp that he had walked with and wondered what the state of his leg was, though his pants showed no sign of injury. The once-white bedsheet was spotted with red, as was the pillow his blond head rested on. For the first time since I had encountered him, I finally let myself take in the gravity of the situation. I had literally just saved someone’s life. 

Not just any life either; no, the life of my mortal enemy. That had to earn me some big points with whatever god was out there. That thought made me laugh to myself, causing Malfoy to look at me with disgust. 

“What the fuck are you laughing about, Adler?” Malfoy asked, annoyance very present in his voice. 

“This whole situation, it’s just...it’s fucking hilarious. I--” I doubled over, laughter wracking my frame, caused by the mental and physical exhaustion that had just hit me. “I fucking saved your life! The person you hate most in the world saved your fucking life!” I could barely catch my breath, I was laughing so hard. 

Malfoy’s expression said that he was less than amused, but I couldn’t care less. _I_ thought it was absolutely fucking hilarious. 

After a few minutes of me trying to catch my breath, and bursting out into giggles, I finally calmed myself down enough to take a full gulp air. Dear god, I needed sleep. It seemed as though Malfoy was well from the brink of death, that he would be just fine, which meant I could finally escape this nightmare and get some well-deserved rest. 

I noticed Malfoy sitting up, the same thought having crossed his mind as well. It looked painful for him to sit up, judging by the twisted expression on his face and the way his breath sped up a little bit, but he hauled himself up, scooting his damaged shirt out from under him and swinging his legs slowly over the side of the bed. He pulled out his wand, using it to clean off his shirt, though the massive tear in the side and the smaller tear on the chest still remained. Pulling the sleeves over his arms and flipping the collar down, Malfoy began buttoning the shirt, his large hands surprisingly nimble as he fiddled with the closures. His hands were so...artistically...beautiful, really.

He glanced up at me once he was done, my stomach plummeting with shame. “Didn’t you say you were going to leave,” Malfoy said, more of a command than a question. 

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, Malfoy, I was. Can’t stand another minute of you,” I mumbled. “You’re welcome, by the way.” 

Malfoy held up a nasty gesture, and I glared at him before smoothing down my sweater once more and pushing the door open. The invigorating feeling of fresh, cool air, air that didn’t smell like blood and sweat and heat and chamomile, swirled around me in a way that made me very grateful I wasn’t stuck in that room anymore with that vile bastard. 

Even though the air was cool, I was free, I could breathe, I _couldn’t_ , couldn’t pull any oxygen into my lungs; a violently, terrifying overwhelming feeling was wrapping itself around my neck like a noose as my brain caught up with my body, blocking any breath I might try to take. Everything was hitting so hard, every single moment of the past two hours tightening the rope around my throat. Bile rose in the back of my mouth, and I bent over just as I vomited up everything I had eaten that day until there was nothing left in my stomach, making me dryly retch as I struggled to calm my stomach down. 

The retching finally subsided, my nose burning with acid, my mouth tacky. I wiped my face, taking in short breaths, trying to make the cool environment settle my stomach. My head pounded as I stood up, slowly starting to make my way back to the Ravenclaw common room, suddenly so exhausted I might not have horrific nightmares about tonight’s events. 

I doubted it, though.


	12. Loud Parties and Dim Corridors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the love you guys have been giving this! i'm really happy to see that it's being enjoyed as much as i love it, and i love hearing your thoughts about the story. no content warnings in this chapter! enjoy <3
> 
> (edited)

The next morning when I woke up, for a moment in the fogginess of sleep, I recalled last night as nothing more than a dream. But as soon as I lifted up my hands to brush hair away from my face and saw the faint crimson crescents still remaining under my nails, I immediately felt ill again. Not just physically, but mentally as well. The awfully familiar storm clouds were gathering in my brain again, in a way they normally didn’t while I wasn’t at home; between Malfoy almost dying and me telling him things about my father that I’d never even told Harry, I should’ve expected it. The sun was dim enough in the sky that I knew I still had a while longer to wallow in bed before I’d have to force myself up and go about my day pretending that everything was exceptionally okay, because I’d remembered that Hermione asked me to study with her today for an upcoming Potions exam. 

I couldn’t admit to anyone _why_ I felt so awful; no, that would lead to questions and questions would lead to having to reveal things that I’d been threatened with my life to not speak of. Did I really think Malfoy would do something if I ever told someone and he found out?

Yes. Absolutely. 

Not that I particularly _wanted_ to talk about it. I’d already been sick once because of it and I had no intention of repeating that velocity of vomit. Laying in my soft bed, I savored the warmth that the comforter provided, as the castle was getting colder and colder by the day, the drafty stone awful at keeping out the frigid soon-to-be winter wind. November was rapidly approaching, the leaves vivid hues of red and orange and yellow, and though the grass was fading to a sickly yellow, the beautiful blue skies that had been present lately made up for it. I was excited for the holidays, for the music and snow and warm fires; I was not, however, excited for the prospect of returning home. Though I wasn’t quite sure yet where I was going to spend the two weeks between first and second term, even just the thought of leaving made me uneasy. 

As the sun began to brighten and the birds began to sing, I pulled myself out of bed, though it was a monumental effort. My limbs felt heavy and worn down, my eyes felt swollen, and my head was pounding with a ridiculous intensity. Hoping that Hermione knew some spell or tonic to aleve me of my ailments, I got ready groggily, throwing on my most decent pair of comfy clothes, didn’t bother with makeup, and threw my hair into a quick plait before trudging out of the dormitory, my four roommates still sound asleep, besides Luna, who I hadn’t spoken to in weeks because of our odd schedules and sleeping habits. She was probably wandering around the grounds, looking for some sort of mystical creature that may or may not exist, and for a moment, I longed for my brain to be as gentle as hers. 

As it was still rather early in the morning for a Saturday, the castle was mostly empty, though a few students had gotten up early to study like Hermione and I. The Great Hall was warm and smelled of cinnamon and pumpkin and bacon, and I reveled in the aroma for a moment before spotting Hermione, her head already buried in a book as she ate. Plopping down beside, I snuck a bit of bacon off her abandoned plate. 

“Mornin’,” I said, my voice still thick with sleep. 

Hermione jumped, as if she hadn’t noticed me sit down right next to her. “Merlin’s Beard, ‘Lainy! You nearly scared me half to death!” 

_Death._ That word shot nausea through me, but I swallowed it down and went on. “Sorry, I thought you would’ve heard me, but once I saw the book,” I gestured as if to say _you know_. 

“Don’t be! Why don’t you eat some breakfast and then we’ll head up to the library? I wanted to get an early start so that we could have enough time to get ready for Slughorn’s party,” Hermione said, laying her book down gently. 

_Oh, fuck_. I had completely forgotten about the Professor’s little get together with all his “best and brightest” students, one of whom was Malfoy. I doubted he would be there, but still, I didn’t know if it was worth the risk. 

“‘Mione…” I started, picking at the pancake in front of me. “I dunno if I’m going to go.”

She looked at me with surprise. “What? Why not? I thought you’d want to,” Hermione said, half-dejectedly. 

I shrugged. “Just...y’know...tired, I guess. It’s been a long week.”

Hermione gave me a disbelieving look as I shoved a bite of fresh fruit into my mouth, savoring the tartness the little blackberries provided. 

“You’re going.” 

There really never was any arguing with Hermione; I didn’t even know why I tried at this point. I sighed playfully, and she pushed me, making me miss a bite of pancake and smearing syrup across my cheek. Her soft chime of a laugh became even louder as the napkin got stuck to my face, leaving a large white piece of it behind. 

“I hate you,” I said, though the laughter that was warming in my chest undercut any anger in my voice. 

Our next hours were spent quietly studying in the library, occasionally exchanging questions or interesting information we found in our respective books. The library was busy, though the most prominent sounds were those of pages being turned and soft thumps as books were taken and returned. By the time the sun was starting its descent into the horizon, words were swimming in front of my eyes, and I had to lean back for a moment, pressing my fingers to my eyes as if that would help clear them. 

Hermione noticed me, and glanced out the window. “It’s nearly five! We better start getting ready,” She said, closing the incredibly massive book she had been perusing. 

I groaned gratefully. “Thank Merlin. I don’t think my brain can even process words anymore. I might actually be illiterate now; I can’t read anything in front of me,” I joked, stacking my books and standing up. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You’re not illiterate, Elaine.”

“I am, I swear it! I shall never be able to read again!” I declared, dramatically throwing my arm over my eyes. 

She laughed, and I felt the gray waves that had been creeping up on my all day recede a bit. Maybe Slughorn’s party would be just what I needed to relax. 

It wasn’t. Hermione and I had just arrived outside Professor Slughorn’s office, chatter and music floating out from behind the door. I was in a plain black, long sleeved dress that brushed just above midthigh, the neckline square and open to about four fingers below my collarbone. The sleeves were sheer and slightly poofed, but the cuffs were tight around my wrists. The skirt was tight around my legs, but not in a way that I couldn’t walk or sit. My hair was curled softly and half pulled back simply with an elastic. Beneath the dress, I wore tights and my usual boots. Hermione was stunning in a pale green dress, the form light and flowing and her hair pulled back in a plait. 

Hermione said I’d looked stunning, but the noise from behind the door was making me feel nervous and not willing to brave a crowd of people. I was already here, though, so I steadied myself with a breath, and trailed after Hermione as she pushed open the thick door, and light and music and the smell of food flooded our senses. Everyone there already had food and drinks in their hands, many little conversations taking place throughout the room. As I surveyed the crowd, I noticed a few familiar faces, like Luna, Cedric, a sixth year from Hufflepuff I couldn’t quite remember the name of, and of course, Malfoy and Blaise, both in dark jeans and simple buttons-ups, their blazers thrown on top to comply with the “informally formal” dress code Slughorn had set in place. 

The sight of Malfoy made my insides twist horribly, and I had to fight the nausea that was beginning to burn in the back of my throat. He looked incredibly carefree for someone who had had a brush with death not twenty-four hours prior, though I could spot the tiniest bit of crimson still caked to a strand of his silver hair. I did my best to steady myself, and I prayed that I’d be able to just avoid him throughout the night, but somehow, I doubted I’d ever be so lucky. I wasn’t scared of him; no, seeing him was just a reminder of how scary last night had been. The horror hadn’t set in until after, which is why my body had gone into shock and I got so incredibly sick. There was just something about the whole situation that made me incredibly uneasy and on edge, though my brain was doing its best to convince me that I was overreacting. 

I thought everyone did look rather nice, especially when my eyes landed on Harry, who was wearing grey jeans and a white button-up, the top two or three buttons undone, creating a casual air about him as he spoke to a few people over in the corner. The shirt hugged his shoulders in a deliciously tight way that made a heat flare inside of me, his shifting muscles visible as he fidgeted while speaking. His dark hair was combed back, framing his strong face and opening up his eyes in a way that I had only seen once or twice, as his hair normally was always falling in front of his face. 

We stood uncertainly in the doorway for a moment before Slughorn finally noticed us, and beckoned us over, saying that we needed to join the party. With sheepish smiles, we walked over to him, my gaze still rather distracted by how good Harry looked tonight. 

“Ah, Ms. Granger, Ms. Adler! Wonderful of you to join us. I was beginning to worry you’d decided not to come,” Slughorn said, his eyes twinkling with a champagne-induced joy. 

“So sorry, Professor, we got caught up studying,” Hermione replied. 

Slughorn chuckled, a loud and merry sound. “Of course you did! You wouldn’t be two of my best students with that kind of drive!”

We both laughed, though it was slightly out of discomfort. 

“Well, there’s food over on the far wall by the fireplace, and there’s drinks right next to it. Help yourself to all you want. I’d love to talk with the both of you more later!” He called as we started toward the food, our stomachs growling with a reminder that we’d only eaten breakfast that day and nothing else. The spread looked amazing; three soups started the lineup, all aromatic and one vaguely nutty, after which followed the protein selection that consisted of baked turkey, little cuts of wonderfully cooked steaks, and a vegetarian option that I wasn’t terribly familiar with. Ending the spread was bread, rice, salad, and an incredible array of autumn-themed pastries and sweets that I knew I would be coming back for later. 

Serving ourselves up, we looked for a place to sit, wanting to be able to relax while we ate. Noticing a few chairs in the corner that bordered the fire, we claimed our seats, excited to finally fill our bellies with our food. 

The party went on, people walking about, refilling their plates, and chatting with various others. Harry and Cedric were caught up in what looked like a rather heated debate about something that involved a wild amount of gesturing, when Slughorn stood up from his place in his rather cozy-looking arm chair, and lightly tapped the side of his glass with his fork. 

“Please, may I have your attention!” He shouted, though it wasn’t unkindly. The soft murmurs of conversation died down, and everyone turned their eyes on him. “Thank you! I would just like to say a short bit of nonsense, and then we can all resume our activities."

The crowd gave him a half-hearted chuckle, and he continued. “You all are here because you have managed to catch my attention in some way or another; either through excellent grades,” Slughorn glanced at Hermione, who blushed, and oddly enough, Draco as well. “Or exceeding talent at potion-making,” He looked at a few people around the room, including Harry and I, which made us share a subtle grin. “Or through your family or other actions, you have impressed me. I wanted to gather you to bring together a bright, like-minded group of students who could possibly learn from each other, or make wonderful friends.” 

Oh, so this little group was Slughorn’s special projects. _Should’ve guessed._

“I would love to get to know each of you better as well, so that I might be enlightened by your delightful young minds! Now, eat, drink, be merry, and thank you for coming!” Slughorn finished, and everyone clapped politely. 

Hermione and I shared an exasperated look, and as everyone dispersed, Harry finally made his way over to us. His eyes raked my body, taking in my outfit as I stood, a blush threatening to rise in my cheeks. 

“‘Lainy, you look….breathtaking,” Harry said softly, his eyes meeting mine. 

My heart thundered in my chest, my brain going a bit foggy. “T-thank you! You do, too,” I replied earnestly, once again surveying his body that had grown so toned over the summer. 

Grabbing my hand in his, Harry brought it to his lips, giving me a soft kiss on the back of my hand. My breath caught, and for a moment, I forgot we were in a crowded room with our friend standing close by. 

Hermione, though, had not forgotten, and cleared her throat rather loudly. And for the second time, Harry and I jumped back from each other, embarrassment warming my skin. 

“And, uh, ‘Mione, you look brilliant,” Harry said, turning to her. 

Hermione shrugged, though I knew she agreed with him. “Thanks, Harry. How’s your night going?” 

“Oh, you know, the same old. Slughorn’s been trying to get me to autograph a picture of myself all night to put on his shelf,” Harry complained, rolling his eyes and gesturing to the shelf on the far right wall, filled with autographed photos of famous witches and wizards Slughorn had taught. 

Hermione and I giggled, sharing an exasperated look. Of _course_ Professor Slughorn would be pestering Harry; he’d be the crown jewel of his already impressive collection. 

“I can’t imagine why,” Malfoy’s voice drawled, him and Blaise having walked up from behind Harry. “I’d rather die than look at your fat head every day.” 

Hermione and I both stood quickly, and Harry turned and stepped back so he was near me. At the word _die_ , I glanced at Malfoy, but his face held no trace of the previous night’s occurrences besides the split lip. Even the color in his pale face had returned. I held back a snort, thinking to myself how ironic it was that he was being so brash after last night. 

“And what’s so funny, Adler?” Malfoy questioned, his eyes burning into mine, his broad shoulders tensing ever so slightly, and despite myself, I felt rather bold after last night.

“Just think that you’re full of shit, that’s all,” I said casually, giving him a small, sarcastic smile. 

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath of surprise, and Harry had to cover his laugh with a very obvious cough. Anger flashed in Malfoy’s eyes, and he clenched his jaw. “Watch your dirty fucking mouth. It might not be the best idea to speak to me like that, you miserable excuse for a witch,” Malfoy threatened, my blood running cold. 

The _or else_ was left unsaid, but it was loud and clear as he looked at me with an angry fire burning in his eyes and I remembered his wonderful little promise to retaliate if I ever said a word of what happened between us. I just shrugged in response, trying to pull myself out of the situation. 

_How the hell can he have anything to hold over my head after I saved his life? He’s fucking insane._

“Piss off, Malfoy,” Harry growled. 

Malfoy’s smile was full of poison as he responded. “How precious. Little Potter is protecting his filthy girlfriend. Say, why don’t you ask her why someone saw her coming out of the Room of Requirement late last night?” 

Frustration and disbelief slammed into me as Malfoy spoke, because I knew I couldn’t tell Harry why I had actually been there, since it would inevitably get back to Malfoy and he’d hurt me, or worse. I couldn’t lie, and say I hadn’t been there, that I had been sound asleep in my bed, because I saw the distrusting glint flash quickly in Harry’s green eyes before it disappeared and was replaced with hatred. 

“Fuck. Off,” Harry said through gritted teeth, and Malfoy shot me a very obvious look that was full of smugness. 

“Just saying, Potter. Maybe you don’t know Adler as well as you think. I mean, look at her. She’s a mess, and I bet you’ve never bothered to ask what happened to her arm, or why her father gave her that scar.” 

Harry’s eyes darted to my arm, and I shifted it ever so slightly out of his view. 

“It’s quite the story, really. I’d bet you might even cry a bit, Granger,” Malfoy said casually, though his eyes on me felt like I was going to burst into flames.

And then Malfoy sauntered off like what he just said hadn’t been one of my deepest secrets, a secret that I hadn’t told anyone, Blaise trailing behind him like all of Malfoy’s little gang did. My mouth was open in shock. I should have known that Malfoy would use anything he could against me, but I assumed he wouldn’t stoop that fucking low. My heart was pounding and I couldn’t talk about my father tonight; I knew that much. I already felt like I was drowning in the stormy seas of the previous night. Harry turned to me, a look of embarrassed curiosity in his eyes. 

“So...were you? Y’know…” Harry trailed off, his voice soft and unsure, Hermione shooting him a cross look before leaving us to give us some privacy even though we hadn’t asked, which I was grateful for.

I let out an indignant snort. “You really believe anything that piece of shit says? He was just trying to rile you up,” I said, hoping to God Harry would buy it; insulting Malfoy was always a good way to go with him. Anxiety was already beginning to eat away at me, knowing that I was stuck in a position where I had to choose between telling the truth to the person I cared for most in the world, and self-preservation. Malfoy knew exactly what he was fucking doing by bringing up last night; it was his own little version of a sick and twisted game to see how much he could test me before I inevitably snapped and he got to fulfil his promise of causing me bodily harm. 

“No, I just...If someone saw you, then…” He began, trailing off as if he didn’t want to say what he was actually thinking. 

“You really believe that dickhead over your best friend? I’m telling you, I wasn’t there,” I responded, feeling more aggravated and on edge by the second. I felt a bit crazy actually believing Malfoy’s threat, but one day during our third year, a first year had accidentally stepped on his robes in the hallway, and he vexed him so hard he had to be sent home for the rest of the year. In _October_. I had no doubt that he would be more than willing to finally release all of his anger out on me in the most violent way possible. 

Harry held up his hands in submission. “Okay, alright, I’m sorry. It just was such an oddly specific thing to say.” The distrust still hid in his eyes, though. 

I rolled my eyes, though the panic in my chest died down a bit. “You know he’s scarily good at manipulating people, Potter. You shouldn’t read into what he says,” I told him. 

He nodded, and took my hand again in his, the warmth of his skin spreading through my cold fingers, making them tingle. “You’re right. I’m sorry,” Harry said. “But about the scar. Elaine, I-”

And for the second time that night, I cut him off. “Harry, if you care about me at all, please, _please_ , just drop it. I can’t,” I started, my throat tightening. “I can’t. Not tonight.” 

And he just nodded solemnly, an understanding look in his eyes. I sighed softly in relief as he leaned closer so he could whisper in my ear. “You really do look beautiful tonight, Elaine. Black suits you.” His voice was low, gruff, as he spoke. 

His words ignited a small fire in my stomach, feeling rather pleased that he enjoyed my dress so much. I must’ve been feeling rather reckless, because I turned my head and whispered back, “How would you feel about getting out of here?” 

I wanted to spend some time alone with him, of course, but the warm air and chattering was starting to press down on me, like the walls were caving in, and I just had to get out, had to clear my head in some fresh air to get rid of the sickly feeling I got every time I interacted with Malfoy.

Harry looked shocked for a moment, then nodded fervently. “Let’s go tell Hermione goodnight, first,” He replied, grabbing my hand and quickly pulling me to where she stood, talking with Slughorn by the refreshments. 

They were talking about some variation to a potion we were to learn the next week when we walked up, Harry in front, his hand still wrapped around mine. 

“Mr. Potter and Ms. Adler! How lovely to see you both. I was just about to make my way over to you after Ms. Granger and I had finished,” Slughorn said, smiling genially at the two of us. 

Harry’s face twisted with fake sadness. “So sorry, Professor, but we’ll have to take a rain check. Elaine isn’t feeling too well, you see.” 

Hermione and Slughorn looked at me, and I quickly patted my stomach like I was in pain. “Must’ve eaten something my stomach didn’t care for,” I explained, even adding in a fake grimace for good measure. 

Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly behind Slughorn, who had bought it and was looking at me with a concerned expression. “How terrible, my dear. Best be off to bed, then, though I would still like to speak with you both.” 

We both nodded and gave Hermione gentle hugs before winding our way through the groups of people crowding the office, excitement starting to flutter in my stomach. Some people gave us a knowing look, and I tried to stop my cheeks from heating up as I did my best to ignore their expressions. The wooden door swung open, revealing the dimly lit hallway beyond, the fresh, cool air greeting my lungs with a welcome chill. 

“Merlin’s beard,” Harry swore, tugging at his shirt collar. “It was hotter than hell in there. I thought I was going to pass out.”

I nodded in agreement as we began walking, keeping my eye out for any prefects or Filch. We passed a rather dark corner of a corridor, and Harry stopped and pulled me into it quickly, our bodies suddenly immersed in the darkness of the shadowy nook. He brought his arm up, slipping it around my waist and tugging me to him until I was flush with his body, the heat radiating off him in a delicious way in the frigid hallway. With the other hand, he tucked my hair out of my face, his touch leaving a trail of fire behind. 

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all night,” Harry said, his voice quiet and gravelly with growing lust. “This dress is unbelievable. I-I didn’t know--” 

I cut him off. “What, didn’t know I was a girl?” I teased, ruffling his hair. 

Harry grinned. “No, git, I’ve always known that. Just didn’t know what you’ve been hiding under your robes this year,” He responded, wrapping his arm tighter around me. Trailing his finger along my shoulder and collar bone, then tracing the slightly deep neckline of my dress, he looked at me, an intensity burning in eyes, one so different from the one that was present when he had been talking to Malfoy. That one was full of hate, but this one? It was filled with longing, with _need_ , as his eyes flickered down to my mouth and back up again. 

“You really are something else, Elaine,” Harry whispered, before slotting his mouth against my own. The initial heat of his mouth was enough to elicit a small moan within my chest and I threaded my fingers through his thick hair, the strands soft. 

He responded by deepening the kiss, his hand coming up to cup the back of my neck, his front pressing into me as we kissed. Harry’s chest felt strong and sure against mine, and I couldn’t help but run my other hand over the strong muscle that lay underneath his white shirt, savoring the way they tensed and flexed as he moved. I found myself longing to see what he looked like unclothed as he released his grip around my waist, choosing instead to cup my hip, his thumb rubbing small circles on the bone. The sheer size of his hand sent heat straight to my core, and I nipped his lower lip gently between my teeth, tasting the spice and honey that lingered on his breath from dinner. It was a rather pleasant taste, and I bit his lip once more before pressing my lips to his again, opening up the kiss a bit more. 

Harry and I had been both standing with our shoulders against the wall, but he suddenly pushed me back so that I hit the stone behind me with a small _oof_ before his mouth was on mine again with renewed fervour. The chill of the stone could barely be felt when it was being erased by the trails of fire Harry’s roaming hands seemed to leave, especially as they grazed my stomach and up to my neck, where he grabbed my chin and titled my head to the side enough that he could press his mouth to the sensitive skin between my neck and shoulder. 

Between kisses, he said, “God, Elaine, you are so beautiful. I can’t believe I get to call you mine.”

_Mine._ That word sent fright rippling through me, and even through the pleasure of his teeth grazing the spot he had just kissed, I found myself beginning to withdraw, to panic, to want to run. 

Luckily, I didn’t have time to do anything, as I spotted a figure in ridiculously dramatic robes flowing behind him waltzing up to us, so I pushed Harry gently off me, and tried to straighten out my dress best I could. 

The flickering torch beside us revealed the stalking figure to be Snape, his face contorted with disdain. “Potter, Adler,” His nasally voice started. “I would hope the two of you are on the way back to your dormitories, because you both know that loitering about in the hallways after curfew is strictly forbidden.” He looked down his hooked nose at us, his beady black eyes searching for something he could punish us for. 

I cleared my throat. “Yes, of course, Professor. I have a stomachache, and Harry’s just walking me back to my common room.” 

Snape hummed, not quite sold. “Better be on your way, then. This time of night is prone to inviting all sorts of...nasty happenings,” He said, his eyes flickering towards me, though I hoped Harry hadn’t noticed. 

“Yes, Professor,” Harry answered, the distaste in his voice quite apparent. “Let’s go, Elaine.” 

He grabbed my hand and tried to pull me away, but it felt like I was pinned underneath Snape’s gaze. 

“It would be best if you were where you were supposed to be, Adler, instead of out in the corridors, causing trouble. It’s rather...dangerous,” Snape said to me, and I flushed. 

“I have no clue what you’re on about,” I said, though I didn’t even sound convincing to myself. 

Snape merely hummed again, and went off, his robes billowing behind him, his steps smooth and languid as he disappeared down the hall. 

Harry tugged my hand again, and this time I followed. “What was that about?” He asked.

“I’m not sure,” I answered, though it was a lie. Something about what Snape had said had sent a chill down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold autumn night air.

Harry shrugged, and the look in his eyes immediately erased any chill I had been feeling. "I know an empty classroom, um, if you...?" He trailed off, his question very obvious. 

My previous panic had died down, and I found myself eager to get my hands on his newly-muscled body again, so I nodded excitedly, causing Harry to grin and grab my hand, tugging me along quickly. He led me down winding corridors until we reached our destination, Harry muttering a few soft words before the door clicked open, revealing the room we had...messed around in the day before. Ushering me in, Harry shut the door behind himself, then quickly spun me, pressing me against the closed door. 

"My god, you have no idea how crazy you're driving me," Harry told me, his lips brushing a tender spot just beneath my jaw, making a moan rumble softly in my chest. His lips on my skin caused a heat to ignite between my hips, and I brought my hands to his torso, tugging him impossibly closer. I could feel that he was just as turned on as I was as his hips pressed roughly into mine, and I pulled his mouth away from my neck, longing to feel it on my own once more. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since last night."

Harry pressed a feverish kiss to my mouth, his tongue swiping gently at my bottom lip as his hands roamed down the plane of my stomach to my hips, one smoothly moving down to cup my ass over the light material of my dress. The heat of his hand felt deliciously wonderful as his other hand moved back up my stomach to my chest, barely caressing the curve of my chest before continuing north to cup the back of my neck and pull me into him. I moved my hips lightly against his, causing a deep moan to errupt from his throat, making me sigh in return. The sound was so delectably incredible that I knew that it alone would be running through my mind for the next few days. Harry's touches grew rougher as I felt him harden against me, and my dress was riding up over the curve of my thighs from my movements. I realized that the only thing separating us was the thin material of my tights and his jeans, and the heat that burned in my hips became almost painful as lust flooded my brain. My breath felt ragged as his touch consumed me, and Harry broke away from our kiss, his lips reddened even in the dim light of the unlit classroom. Disappointment filled my brain as he stopped his show of affection, and I looked at him nervously, afraid something was amiss.

"You alright?" He asked gently, looking into my eyes earnestly. 

A smile broke out on my face and I nodded. "I am wonderful, absolutely fantastic," I answered, placing a hand on his broad chest, endearment swelling within me at his kindness even in the midst of such a heated scene. 

I longed for _more_ , but I knew it was getting late, so the two of us left the classroom, Harry's arousal still rather apparent as we walked. Luckily, the castle hallways were rather empty, because the kiss that he gave me as we parted ways was so passionate that it made me blush all the way up until I laid down in my bed, my eyes heavy with sleep. 


	13. Dueling and Dread

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -content warnings for indirect mentions of abuse.-  
> 1k hits! thank you all so much. i appreciate the comments and kudos and feedback is always welcome <3 enjoy!

The remaining weeks before break passed with relative normality; Harry and I were...still whatever we were, Ron and Hermione were happy as could be, classes and homework were growing harder by the day, but things were good. Cho and I were on amicable terms now, but between school and Harry, I hadn’t seen her much, and I really only saw Cedric at practice, as he was a year older and we had no classes together. Cold air constantly breezed through the cracks in the stone of the castle, and the dungeon was a miserable place to be now, for more reason than one. The class itself was all well and fine, but Malfoy had gone back to taunting me with relentless verbal attacks, which surprised me. I would’ve assumed that  _ some _ of his fire would’ve been taken away by nearly dying, but it seemed to only spur his insults, making what had previously been a rather enjoyable class incredibly difficult. 

Transfiguration was a struggle, as well. Ron and I had fallen far behind because of our tendency to joke around, so McGonagall had split us up, and I now sat by another Slytherin who oddly always smelled strongly of brussel sprouts, and had a habit of spitting as he spoke, which meant I was constantly finding wet spots on my desk and robes that made me gag. I had become rather adept at that class though, managing to actually elicit praise from McGonagall on more than one occasion, which I bragged about endlessly to my friends. 

The rest of my classes continued without anything of note; Hagrid’s was always pleasant, if cold and a little odd at times, Snape’s was incredibly demanding, papers being assigned every other class, and the topics we covered were convoluted and confusing. Herbology and Charms were nice, if slightly dull at times. The air was continuously biting at our noses and cheeks anytime we went outside, and the grass crunched with a permanent frost underfoot. There had been one more Quidditch match, between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, with Hufflepuff winning by a surprisingly large margin, which put Harry and Ron in a sour mood for a week straight. Hermione and I shared countless exasperated looks during that week every time the two of them whined about the unfairness of a certain call, or conspired that they were sure Hufflepuff had somehow cheated, to which I had responded that they were being sore losers and needed to put on their big boy robes and grow up a little. The comment was made in good fun, but I had apologized to Harry later, wanting to make sure he knew I was only joking. 

His response was a wonderfully passionate kiss, and a tight hug as he responded that he knew, and that I was sweet for worrying. Harry and I had grown even closer over the past weeks, too, though I still hadn’t confided in him about the origin of my scar, and he hadn’t brought it up again after Slughorn’s party. 

I was glad of that, as even though the scar had begun to fade to a faint pink, I still felt the flash of pain everytime I looked at it or bumped into something that hit my arm. His eyes lingered on the line more often than I wished they would, and I knew he thought I couldn’t see every time he looked at it, but I could, and it never failed to incite a sinking feeling in my stomach. It was so... _ unfair _ , as childish as it sounds, that I had to wear this permanent reminder on my body that my parents care less about me than everything else in their lives. I had learned to live with it over and over again during the years though, and I knew that eventually I would either be able to push it out of my mind, or push it down inside of me so deep that it would never come back up. 

_ What a healthy way to deal with things, right? _

Come the end of November, the Great Hall as well as most of the rest of the castle had been decorated with a breathtakingly festive shine; there were Christmas trees lining the Great Hall, wreaths and vines of holly leaves were strung on doors and walls and through the railings of the moving staircases, and the first snow had fallen, covering the grounds in a great white blanket of sparkling ice. Harry and I had had an impromptu snowball fight one weekend, started by him when he had kicked snow at me playfully while we were walking. By the end of it, our hands were numb, and the cold air burned our tired lungs, but the smiles Harry sent my way the rest of the day were well worth it. 

And no, we still hadn’t talked about  _ us _ , thank you for asking. 

I just... _ couldn’t.  _ Not after the way my stomach churned when he called me his. Maybe I was scared, maybe I didn’t want to face the fact that I still wasn’t ready for actual commitment, even with the one person I’d always felt safe around. It was a problem I would confront later, but I knew that I couldn’t push it off forever, and that scared me more than anything. 

A week before the end of term, I went up to the owlery after class, as I had received a letter. It was rather odd, as the only people who actually cared about me were here with me, but my curiosity could never be ignored. I had no clue  _ how _ anyone had sent me a letter, as all the people I knew back home were Muggles anyways. The steps were icy and the wind was unforgivingly cold as I made my way up the tower, trying to brace myself against the winter climate. As I neared the top, I nearly retched at the awful smelling wafting out of the owlery, the cold wind only driving it further, and covering my nose, I ducked inside, sighing a bit in relief at the reprieve from the bitter air outside. I stomped my feet a few times, trying to get my blood pumping again, before spotting the ashy grey owl that had white paper with my name scribbled on it tied to its spindly leg. I furrowed my brow in confusion as I recognized the disjointed loopy handwriting that belonged to my mother. Untying the note from the owl’s leg earned me a few snips on the hand with his beak, but I was so anxious about the contents of the letter I barely noticed. 

_ Elaine,  _

_ Your father and I both miss you dearly. You are coming home for Christmas. See you soon. _

_ -Mum _

I snorted and barely resisted the urge to tear the note up or set it ablaze.  _ We miss you dearly,  _ I mocked silently, feeling annoyance settle in my stomach. They truly thought I believed that? Frankly, I could barely believe she’d put her work down long enough to even spare me a second thought  _ once _ since I’d left, and probably not even before that. Going home for Christmas was an unappealing thought at the very least, but I knew there wasn’t really anything I could do about it, so I took a deep breath, trying to resign myself to the fact that I wouldn’t be going to the Burrows this year. I would miss Mrs. Weasley’s cooking, Mr. Weasley’s never-ending barrage of questions about Muggle objects, and mostly, I would miss spending the holidays with people who bothered to notice whether I was even alive or not. A sadness settled into me, washing away the annoyance that had previously been building. Shaking my head, I tried to ignore that loneliness, trying instead to move back to that cold, numb, disconnected part of my mind that I retreated to while at home, which was the only thing that got me through it every time.

With the letter crumpled angrily in my hand, I left the foul-smelling owlery and braved the harsh winter climate once again, taking extra care to tread lightly on the steps that were coated with ice. Once I had safely made it down the steps, I broke into a faster walk, wanting to get in front of a warm fire and defrost the bits of skin that the wind had been attacking endlessly on my uncovered face, ears, and hands. I cursed my parents again for neglecting to buy me new winter clothing. The pieces I had had completely gone to ruin, having been used so many seasons over that they could no longer offer any actual warmth or barrier from the cold. It wasn’t like I had money to buy my own, either; I barely afforded the books I needed this year second-hand. Even my coat, which was really just a heavy jacket, was beginning to fray at the hems and I had found a few holes when I had first pulled it out of my trunk when the air got too cold to go without it. 

The wind blew wildly, and I had to huddle into myself for any hope of protection from it as I walked, the letter flapping noisily in my hand. Finally reaching indoors, I hurried into the stone hallway, the absence of frosty air a welcome feeling. As I gathered myself, taking a moment to breath in the warm air, I felt the letter being snatched out of my hand by someone who had walked up behind me. 

As I turned around to protest, Malfoy strutted past me, my mail now held by his thick glove that looked so soft I felt jealousy bubble up for just a moment inside me. He had a wool black trenchcoat on that was buttoned up all the way to his throat, the collar high to fend off the cold. His cheeks were rosy from being outside, and his boots were tracking in snow behind him. He stopped, facing me with a rather vile glint in his eye. 

“What the fuck? Give it here,” I demanded, reaching for  _ my _ letter, but Malfoy quickly stepped out of reach further into the hallway, shaking his head. 

“No, I don’t think I will. I’m ever so curious to see who could possibly be sending  _ you _ mail, and why it made you so angry,” Malfoy said simply, as if he had any right sticking his stupid nose into my business. 

“It’s none of your fucking business. Don’t you have anything better to do?” I asked, resisting the urge to curl my fists in frustration, because I did  _ not  _ feel like dealing with him, not with all the angry and worry that was building up inside me stronger and stronger every second. 

Malfoy cocked his head to the side. “Now that is none of your business, Adler. Where are your manners?”

My mouth dropped open, and a sound of indignation came out. “ _ My _ manners?”

He nodded. “Yes. You really should watch your mouth, you know.”

Disbelief rushed through me, and I made another swipe at my letter, Malfoy moving to hold it over his stupid blond head where he knew I wasn’t quite tall enough to reach. I wanted to yell, or at least let out an angry huff, but letting Malfoy know he was getting to me wasn’t worth the temporary satisfaction. 

Bringing the letter back down once again, Malfoy flipped it open and read it, the corner of his mouth twisting up into a sinister smile. “Going home for the holidays? How... _ fun _ ,” He mocked, and I swore internally at my own stupidity for letting it slip that his knowledge of my father was correct on that Friday night that he had almost died. 

“It is none of your damn business where I’m going,” I ground out, my jaw clenched tightly to keep myself from raising my voice. 

He snickered. “Maybe you’re right, but I think knowing you’re going to be at home and not with your filthy little friends at that poor excuse for a house the Weasleys live in is better than any gift I’ll get this year.” His face turned down sympathetically. “You probably don’t get any, do you? Well, not if you don’t count the scars your father seems to enjoy gifting you.”

_ That evil, horrible, foul asshole. _

I was practically seething with rage at this point, his smug, pale face basically inviting me to hit it again. “I’ll give you one last chance, Malfoy,” I threatened, practically spitting his name. “Give me my fucking letter back.” 

Malfoy snickered again, seemingly genuinely amused by my words. “Or what, Adler? Gonna call Mommy? She doesn’t give a shit about you either; don’t think she’d be much help.” His voice was dripping with fake sweetness but his eyes held nothing but contempt and evil. 

_ Or what? _ I didn’t even know if I had the guts to do anything to him, but….but I couldn’t let him win yet another one of these awful encounters we continue to have and I really,  _ really, _ wanted to do something to wipe that disgusting smile off his angular face. 

Pulling my wand out of my pocket so quickly Malfoy barely had time to react, I yelled, “Aguamenti!” 

A massive stream of icy water shot at Malfoy, and though he did twist to the side, the left half of his body still got hit with the spell, soaking his wool coat and dark pants. 

The look in his eyes was enough to make even the bravest person cower, but I tried to keep my face still as he looked at me with hatred. 

“You. Fucking.  _ Bitch _ !”Malfoy yelled, so loud that I nearly wanted to cover my ears. “You’re fucking in for it now.” 

He drew his wand, firing back with a shout of “Confringo!” that I narrowly blocked with a simple Protego charm, and I barely had time to utter the word before he was cursing me again, using a variety of blasting spells that had me continuously blocking and ducking and moving. Malfoy’s attacks pushed me back out into the unforgiving winter afternoon, the snow wrapping around my boots and almost making me trip. 

The cold barely registered in my mind as Malfoy’s silver eyes pierced mine while he herded me back with his spells, even though a thick snow had begun to fall, clouding my vision. I had done a decent job of blocking all his attacks until he fired two almost simultaneously, the second one catching my shoulder and throwing me back into a bank of freezing snow. I gasped as my back hit the white powder, scrambling quickly to get back up as he stalked towards me. Making it to my feet, I finally had a chance to retaliate, and I sent a wild “Stupefy!” his way that he very easily blocked. I groaned at my stupidity, and when I went to block his newest spell, my shoulder exploded with pain and I took in a sharp breath. While my guard was down, Malfoy tried to hex me once again, but I dodged to the side, and, deciding I wanted to be done with this stupid duel I had started, I whispered, “Expelliarmus”, and to my surprise, his wand came soaring through the falling snow toward me. 

Grabbing his wand out of the air, I panted, trying to catch my breath. Malfoy turned to me, his entire body tense with rage. “Give me my fucking wand back,” He demanded, his words short and packed with resentment. “ _ Now _ .” 

He walked towards me, and I stumbled back a step or two, afraid he might actually start using his fists, judging by the fury that shrouded him. The snowflakes were sticking to the wool of his coat, and I was sure the drenched half of him was far colder than I’d ever like to experience, but he didn’t seem to mind as he pushed his wet hair out of his eyes. 

“I said,” Malfoy growled, so close now that the snow was no longer obscuring him, and I could see just how flushed his face was. “Give it back, Mudblood.”

My blood boiled when he uttered that word, and I noticed out of the corner of my eye that some students had gathered in the far edge of the courtyard to watch our encounter, which meant I really couldn’t back down. 

_ Your pride really is going to get you killed one day, you know. _

True, but I’d rather get seriously maimed than have everyone know that I backed down when Malfoy confronted me, so I stood my ground. “No.”

Malfoy’s eyes widened, and he stepped close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him, even in the snow. “ _ No? _ ”

I gulped, and nodded. “That’s right, no. You want to hurt me; why would I  _ let _ you do that?” I asked, sounding only slightly braver than I felt. 

Malfoy looked at me innocently, but I could tell that he was longing for blood as he spoke softly. “Why would I ever want to hurt you, Elaine?” 

I froze, and not just because of the chilly day. He leaned into my space so he could lower his voice to a gravelly tone that was barely audible. “It’s not like your very existence makes me ill, or that every time I hear you speak, I wish you had bled out on your bathroom floor.” His breath warmed the frozen skin of my face, and his voice sent shivers down my spine. It was so….purely  _ wicked _ , worse than I’d ever heard it before.

I could feel the blood draining out of my face, and I stepped back so quickly I nearly fell over. “Fine, taking your fucking wand back,” I said, my stomach churning like I was going to be sick. “Stay away from me, Malfoy. I mean it this time.” But my words held little punch, and I knew it. 

“You don’t tell me what to do, Adler,” He sneered, snatching his dark wand out of my hand. “You’re a fucking waste of magic. You don’t even deserve to be able to use it.”

My stomach churned again, and I grit my teeth. “Fuck you, Malfoy.” 

He snorted. “What, is that supposed to hurt my feelings?” Letting out a low laugh, he finally stepped back. “Have a nice break,” Malfoy said sarcastically, and sauntered off, leaving me dazed in the middle of the continuously-worsening storm that was starting to cover the grounds in a deep layer of snow. 

The group of students had dispersed so fast after Malfoy had stormed off that I didn’t get a chance to see who exactly was present, but I knew by the end of the day, the news would circulate and I’d be surprised if a teacher didn’t hear about it and decide to tell our Head of House. My shoulder pulsed with an unpleasant ache as I ambled up the moving staircases, the feeling in my fingers still entirely gone, along with my letter. It felt like my very bones were tired and cold, and I longed to just sit by the fire and close my eyes and try to erase what had just happened from my mind, but as soon as I wearily answered the riddle and walked into the Ravenclaw common room, I knew that wasn’t really going to happen. 

Cho was sitting on the plush couch, her face twisting with worry when she saw me. “I-I heard what happened. Are you…” Cho started, motioning for me to sit beside her in front of the fire, and I only obliged because the warmth was far too enticing to pass up. 

“Okay? Yeah, of course I am,” I lied, keeping my voice disinterested. 

Cho furrowed her brow. “‘Lainy, I know when you’re lying. Neville told me it was pretty nasty.”

_ It _ being the duel that everyone had seemingly already heard about. I was barely surprised, given how fast news always traveled at this school. “It was fine, really. I started it, anyways,” I said casually, looking down to pick at my nails. 

“You did?” Cho asked, her voice laced with disbelief. 

I nodded. “He was just...pissing me off and it’s been a long day, I guess.” I shrugged. “Duels happen, Cho. It’s nothing new, really.”

She shook her head. “But this is you and Malfoy. I know how nasty he can get. I know...I know that he has a way of getting under your skin.” 

He did, but I wasn’t going to say that. “It really wasn’t a big deal, Cho. I’m alright,” I assured her, giving her a small smile. 

She looked hesitant, but eventually nodded. “Okay, Adler, but I still think you’re insane. I can’t believe you actually got his wand away from him!”

I laughed softly, the movement making my shoulder prick with pain, but I held back my wince. No use in making Cho fuss more. “What can I say? I’m incredibly skilled,” I joked, though I honestly was proud of myself for it. 

Cho’s bright laugh echoed in the empty room, and my heart panged with remorse as I realized how much I had missed her lately. We ended up grabbing dinner and studying for the rest of the night, though my mind was wandering relentlessly because of my mother’s letter, which I hadn’t mentioned to Cho. Thinking about it would only make it worse, so I chose to do the healthy thing and ignore it, telling myself I had the rest of the week to celebrate the holidays and revel in the love my friends were so excellent at offering to me before shutting myself down almost entirely to face the nightmare of going home. 

I didn’t bother responding to my mother, knowing she would likely not even notice that I hadn’t. The week went on, classes entirely taking up any free time I even thought about having, but even doing that with my friends was enjoyable. 

The thought of going to Potions that week was entirely dreadful, but I refused to let Malfoy think I was staying away from him, so that week I begrudgingly made my way down to the damp, numbingly cold dungeon, Hermione chattering by my side about the potion we were supposedly brewing that day. Entering the classroom, there were a few students milling about, but Hermione said goodbye to me, and went to sit down, wanting to get in a few last minutes of reading before class began. I sat down in my seat, taking out my book, a quill that was starting to look rather worse for the rare, and a small bit of parchment. 

Class was about to begin, Slughorn just getting up out of his high-backed chair behind his desk, when Malfoy, Crabbe, and Zabini waltzed in, looking like they couldn’t care less that they were nearly late. I rolled my eyes as they sat down, Malfoy’s cologne overwhelming my nose, making me sneeze. Malfoy shot me a disgusted look.

_ God, it was a sneeze. What a prick. _

I rolled my eyes once more, and told myself I was going to ignore him for the entire class. Though Slughorn announced our potion would have to be a team effort today, I did a rather good job of avoiding any interaction with Malfoy, both of us silently following our respective instructions. 

Near the end of class, I was just thinking to myself that I could get used to not hearing Malfoy’s gruff voice ever again, when he spilt a bottle of aggressively foul-smelling orange liquid all over our table, and complained loudly: “Professor, Adler’s making a massive mess on my station.” 

I gave him a confused look as Slughorn begrudgingly put his paper down and waddled to the back of the classroom where our table sat. “What, pray tell, is the issue, Mr. Malfoy?” 

“Adler’s clumsy ass won’t stop messing up our potion,” Malfoy accused, though I had done absolutely nothing to warrant his complaints. 

I was about to splutter a retort, but Slughorn spoke first. “Mr. Malfoy, I do not have time to waste on such childish issues. You’re nearly an adult; act like one and begin solving your own problems,” Slughorn said, clapping Malfoy on the shoulder. From anyone else, those words would’ve been rude, but Slughorn was genuinely trying to encourage Malfoy to grow up in the kindest way possible. 

“You’re a fucking child,” I muttered, going to clean up the spill, as I knew Malfoy would never bother. 

“At least I’m not an annoying little bitch,” He shot back, and I, not having the energy to engage with him, merely shook my head softly and returned to my work.

My lack of response seemed to anger him more than when I spoke, but I carried on, not taking note of his tensed jaw or his tight grip on the table. The air felt thick, suffocating, with tension from Malfoy’s frustration, so once the class was over, I did my best to clean up quickly and exit the classroom, waiting outside for Harry and Hermione. 

They walked through the doorway not long after I did, and the three of us fell into casual conversation as we made our way to the main castle. 

“What are your plans for the holidays, Hermione?” Harry asked, struggling to juggle all his books and parchment in his hands as he neglected to carry a bag with him today. 

Hermione sighed. “My father wants us to go on some trip up north, though I’d much rather come with you two to the Burrows.” She shrugged, really not too upset about it. 

“‘Lainy?” Harry asked me. 

I mimicked Hermione’s shrug, “My mum wrote to me yesterday, telling me I’m coming home for the break,” I said, trying to sound as nonchalant as I looked. 

Though they tried to hide it, I saw the worried look Hermione and Harry shared between them, and my stomach twisted. 

That _ is why I hadn’t brought it up. _

The two of them stopped walking, moving to the side so that the rush of students could pass by, and I halted a second after, noting the stress creasing their expressions. 

“Do you…” Harry cleared his throat. “Do you have to go?” Balancing his books in one arm, earning an eye roll from Hermione as she helped him with some of his things, he reached out with the other hand, grabbing mine. The calloused skin of his palm brushed mine, and his thumb began tracing small circles on my hand in a way he only did when he was really worried. 

“I don’t really think I have a choice, but it’s alright. It’ll be fine,” I tried to reassure them, plastering a fake smile on my face, though neither of them looked even remotely convinced. 

Hermione shook her head, her curls bouncing softly. “Elaine, I don’t think it’s worth--” 

I cut her off. “I don’t have a choice, okay? My father will probably be passed out drunk the whole time and I doubt my mother will spare me a second glance once I walk through the door. I’ve dealt with this my entire life; why do you think I can’t now?” 

Harry’s glance at my scar wasn’t quite quick enough for me to miss it, and anger blossomed unexpectedly in my chest. “What, Potter? You obviously have something to say,” I accused, crossing my arms in front of my chest. 

The red blush that flared in Harry’s face did nothing to assuage me. “It’s just...C’mon, Elaine. We have a pretty good idea where you got that scar, and I still don’t know why you chose to tell  _ Malfoy _ of all people instead of us, and we’ve tried to respect your privacy, but we’re worried about you.” 

Hermione nodded in agreement. “It isn’t safe for you there,” She said softly. 

“Yeah, well…” I sighed. “I’ve nowhere else to go, do I? Not going home during the holidays would only make my summer worse. It’ll be fine,” I said again, but I knew I was mostly trying to convince myself at this point. I felt the fear begin to fester inside me, and I tried to swallow it down, because fear made me vulnerable and stupid, and I didn’t have room to be either of those things for the next three weeks. 

~~~

Six days later, I trudged up to the front door of my two-story house lining a quiet street in Berkshire, the vines and flowers running across the front only kept alive and neat by the housekeeper my parents had hired years ago. The house itself was stone, but the shutters were an all too familiar shade of green that made my stomach sink, and the chimes hanging off the overhang clinked softly in the breeze. Taking a deep breath, trying not to feel anything besides complete indifference, I pushed open the white door and stepped inside. 


	14. Finally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -content warnings: graphic depictions of violence and abuse. please be careful proceeding if this kind of thing is difficult for you to read; if you skip it, the next chapter is going to kind of summarize the action in less graphic terms, so you won't be missing much.-  
> thank you all for the comments and support <3 it truly means the world to me!  
> (edited)

The clean smell of magnolias brushed my nose as I stepped into the foyer, the dark wooden floor creaking beneath my feet. Everything was the same as I had left, like it always was. There wasn’t a single vase or book or rug that was even slightly out of place, because of my mother’s obsession with giving off the illusion that we were a happy, perfect family. Her ignorance went so far that she pretended not to notice any new bruises or red burn marks that frequently popped up on my skin, never once stopped my father in any of his drunken tyrades unless company was coming over.

For that, I blamed her just as much as the man who had littered my skin with permanent reminders of his view of my worth. 

The stairs to my right were wrapped with a garland of holly leaves, and I could just see the edge of an impeccably decorated Christmas tree that was set in the corner of the living room, no doubt put up just to show off to any of my mother’s various coworkers that happened to stop by during the holiday season. The sitting room to my left that consisted of a stiff gray couch, a shelf full of classic literature, and a wonderfully large black piano was left undecorated, and for a moment I felt that familiar pull to the instrument, my fingers longing to play once more. The last time I had played had been years ago, before I realized my playing, no matter how proficient, always had a way of angering my father that just wasn’t worth the joy it used to bring me. 

An odd sort of sadness washed over me, and I tucked it away in the back of my mind, thinking that maybe once these two weeks of hell were done, I could find a piano in the Room of Requirement and let that distant feeling of beauty overwhelm me as my fingers struggled to find the right notes after all this time. I tugged the strap of my bag back onto my shoulder as it slipped down, and made my way as silently as I could up the stairs, trying to savor the last seconds of mental peace I would get until the new year. 

Padding up the stairs, I saw that nothing was out of place in the second floor hallway either. The doors were all shut, the carpet was clean, and the rugs that were laid on the floor were straight and neat. My room was the last door on the left, the others being the bathroom, my mother’s office, and the guest room. My parent’s bedroom was downstairs, though I could hardly recall the last time the two of them spent any moment there simultaneously. I softly swung open my door, taking in the twin bed covered with a black comforter, the shelves lining the walls with books and a few photos and trinkets, and my white dresser, who’s peeling paint had revealed last summer that there was an odd layer of gold beneath the white. Everything was pristine, as if no one lived there, and I guess for all intents and purposes, no one really did. 

I did my best to make sure the only time I spent at home was the exact period of summer break, because that was about all I could handle of this hellhole. Sure, it looked wonderful, but the darkness and secrets that lurked beneath the perfection made the whole house spoiled. 

Hearing footsteps coming down the hall, I took a steadying breath and set my bag down, ready to tackle this first encounter with my dear parents. A small knock on the doorframe came from my mother, who was dressed in her usual business casual, her hair in a tight, sleek ponytail that seemed frozen in time. 

“Elaine,” My mother said, her prim accent present even just in a single word. “How lovely to have you home for Christmas. It’s been nearly six since you were last here for it.” She opened her arms as if to hug me, but I stayed frozen in my spot by my bed. 

“I know,” I replied shortly, not bothering to note that she hadn’t gone to the trouble of even asking me back until this year. 

“Your father is here somewhere, I’m sure,” Mum said, her botoxed brow furrowing ever so slightly. “He’d love to see you.”

Anger, panic, and regret surged through me all at once. I couldn’t believe she had the gall to mention that man to me, especially after the past summer. She probably had forgotten all about the way things had escalated, as it had nothing to do with her stupid job or her company. 

I merely grunted in response, turning away from her form in the doorway and going to unpack my small bag that I had brought with me that contained only a few school books, my wand, a gift that Hermione and Cho had snuck into my bag, and spare Muggle money in case I needed it. I had clothes and books here, and though they weren’t my favorite, I figured they would only cause a hassle if I brought more from Hogwarts.

“Elaine,” Mum reprimanded, and I turned once more, my frustration illustrated quite plainly on my face. 

“What.”

My mother looked as if she were about to roll her eyes, and then thought better of it, choosing instead to release a slow breath. “While you are here, you’re not to cause a problem, understand? No magic talk, no loud music, no messes. Your father doesn’t like it, and I’ve got company coming by in a few days.” 

I shifted my weight to one foot, tapping the other impatiently. “You know I don’t give a damn what that man thinks, and frankly, I don’t care what you think either. I’ll be in my room, like always, doing my best not to be a _burden_ to the people who chose to have me,” I sneered, that familiar contempt rising in my chest.

Not calming herself this time, my mother briskly strode over to me and grabbed my face in a tight grip; so tight that my jaw popped and I couldn’t move my head. 

Her eyes that were an exact copy of mine bored into me, and I did my best to hold my ground and not wince, but her long nails were digging into my cheeks. “You ungrateful child. Your father and I have given you everything you could ever want, and still you hold some silly grudge over things that were mistakes, and that your father apologized for,” She said, a quiet rage infiltrating her voice. 

I still held her gaze, not wavering, hoping that my complete disgust was shining through my eyes. 

“Your father gets a certain way when he’s drunk,” I snorted, which was met with my mother’s nails sharply pricking my skin, “and you know what sets him off, and you still choose to do those things. Really, Elaine, you’d think you would learn by now. He apologized for that scar, too, so what more do you want?” 

I held my fury at bay, knowing it would only worsen the situation. He hadn’t apologized, not really. To anyone else, her words might come as a shock, but having been on the receiving end of them for far too many years, hardly anything my mother said bothered me anymore. 

_What more could I want? No fucking scar in the first place_.

I held back my words, though, as she let go off my face roughly and sighed, rubbing her temples like this conversation was giving her a headache. “Just...behave, okay?” 

I grumbled a semi-coherent confirmation, and with one last piercing look, my mother turned and left, leaving the door open behind her. I grumbled again, going to shut the door before laying down on my soft mattress, rubbing my face as if it would soothe the pain. 

_What a terrible idea, coming home._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few days passed without trouble, my days confined to reading and studying in my room, sneaking down to the kitchen at odd times so that I could avoid seeing my father, who I still hadn’t greeted since coming home. The last words he had drunkenly slurred at me were seemingly burnt in the forefront of my mind, and I honestly didn’t know if I could restrain myself when I inevitably saw him. Neither crying nor lashing out at him physically seemed like the best idea, so I decided to practice that bit of self-preservation Professor Slughorn made me aware of. 

It was honestly quite pleasant having a few days of isolation; I got a load of studying done, and I didn’t have to deal with Malfoy, which is a wonderful event in and of itself. I missed my friends, so much that my heart contracted every time I thought of them, all bundled up together at the Burrow, warm, rich food and handknit clothing creating an atmosphere of ultimate safety and _home_. This house wasn’t home. It was too cold, too angry, too poisoned with rotten memories. 

Laying on my bed one night, unable to sleep, my brain whirled with unpleasant thoughts as the mark on my arm seemed to burn, begging for me to travel down that nasty road, the one that led to sadness and hopelessness. I did my best to push it away, but my brain insisted, and it ever so kindly began replaying the events of that night. 

_The house was dark when I got home, my parents surely having gone to bed by now. I had been out all day wandering around and reading at the little grassy park a few miles away from my house. That had become my daily routine this summer; a way to get out of the house and do something, anything, to take my mind off of constantly counting down the very seconds until my return to Hogwarts._

_I was hungry after a day of not eating, so I walked quietly across the tile to the kitchen, where my father was leaned up against the counter, examining an empty amber whiskey bottle. I stopped once I saw him, my breath catching tight in my throat. I could smell the awful stench of whiskey and cigarettes that never seemed to leave him, and it was permeating the space, making my nose itch and my eyes burn._

_My father glanced up from his detailed inspection of his bottle, his hands shaking slightly. “Where the fuck you been all day?” His voice was slurred, a bit too loud._

_“Out,” I replied simply, hoping to be able to escape without any major altercations, though I should’ve known my luck wasn’t that good._

_“Out,” He mimicked me in a high, nasally voice that made me huff in annoyance. “Out where, you stupid girl?”_

_“Just out. I was at the park,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm, trying not to let the fear push through._

_He snorted, and stood up from leaning against the counter. “Fucking out all day, my ass. Come home and this,” He gestured to the empty bottle, “Is fucking empty. It was full yesterday.”_

_That I did roll my eyes at. He’d bought that two days ago and had drained it in less than 48 hours, as he did with every container of that foul liquid he brought home._

_He caught my eye roll and stumbled toward me, grabbing the front of the black tee I had put on that day, his rancid breath making my eyes water. “Don’t fucking disrespect me in my own damn house, you ungrateful bitch,” My father practically spat at me, his grip pulling at the fabric of my shirt so that I couldn’t back away._

_Irritation sparked in me, and I let out a breathy laugh. “Your house? That’s funny, Father. Don’t remember you doing anything to help around here.”_

_And I knew I should’ve held my tongue, and god, did I regret it the moment the hand with the bottle came smashing down on the black granite counter, splintering the glass into large, wickedly sharp pieces. Fear, more potent than I had ever felt it, enveloped my being, my heart beating so fast I thought I might’ve been having a heart attack. My father’s hand was surely cut up, but I couldn’t find it in me to even care at all, especially not when he held a large shard up to my throat, making me go deadly still._ _It had always been terrifying to see my father angry growing up, even before he started drinking every day and smoking those wretched cigarettes, but as the years progressed, his anger slowly grew and grew every time we had one of these unfortunate encounters. The first time he'd ever hurt me was when I was sitting by his feet watching a show at ten years old. His ashtray was on the table next to the couch he had sat himself on, but because of his drunken haze, he had missed and it landed on my bare shoulder. The burn hurt worse than it looked, but the real injury was the way that he had just cackled at my pain and moved on, never apologizing. It only got worse from there, to the point where I could barely recognize the man I used to love and admire so much. I grew older, and he grew less sober, and it seemed that everything I did had a certain way of making him blow up; by 11 I had all but become self-confined to my room just to avoid being in the path of his fury, and getting that letter from Hogwarts had given me back hope that I had lost far too young._

_“You ever fucking talk to me like that again, and you’ll never see that stupid school or those shitty fucking friends you claim you have,” My father threatened, the glass lightly pricking the tender skin of my neck. “I doubt anyone willingly puts up with your fucking shit anyways.”_

_I nodded tightly, careful to not press myself into the makeshift weapon he held. There were a few moments of stillness before he let go of my shirt, and quickly, quicker than I had ever moved, I tried to shove him away from me and sprint out of the kitchen. I caught him by surprise at first, but once he recovered from his stumble, he started after me, his drunken footsteps deafening._

_Bounding up the stairs in the dim evening light probably wasn’t the best idea, but it was my only option, so I took two steps at a time, cursing my legs for not moving faster. Closer and closer to the top of the stairs, to the security of a locking door I ran, but just as I was about to reach the top, I felt a meaty hand grab my ankle. I came crashing down, trying to twist so that I wouldn’t land on my face, and ended up landing smack on my tailbone, pain radiating through my hips._

_My father was only a shadowy outline above me, but I could’ve sworn I saw his figure swaying unsteadily right before he passed out, the alcohol overwhelming his system. Instinctively, as he fell, I threw my arm up to block the blow, as if the skin on my uncovered arm wasn’t merely flesh and as thin as paper. The pain took a few moments to register, and before it did, before I felt the waterfall of blood pouring out of the cut, my father's unmoving body crashed to the stairs, causing a loud thump and the hand that held the glass still had come slicing down, tearing open my arm like it was nothing. I pushed his heavy form off of my other arm quickly, not sure how long he would be out. Stumbling to the bathroom, I cradled my arm to my chest as a stinging pain spread through it._

_I slid down the door after shutting it, sitting briefly before pain shot up my spine from my tailbone, so I moved to sit differently when I saw the shining red liquid rushing out of my arm. The pain suddenly slammed into me full-force and my head spun, either from the loss of blood already or merely the sight of so much of it. I had to tell myself to_ think _, to act quickly because I knew what this could turn into, and as much as it would be the ultimate revenge to my father, I wanted to see my friends again, see Hogwarts again._

_Grabbing the pristine white towel that was hanging from the towel rack, I wrapped it tightly over my arm, putting as much pressure as I could on it without making myself pass out from the fiery pain that erupted every time I jostled my arm._

_My legs were splattered with blood, my hands were soaked in it, and the floor was smeared with crimson streaks. The cut was deep, I knew that, but I didn’t know just how bad it was, and as much as my stomach clenched and rioted at the thought, I began unwrapping the towel to assess the damage. As soon as I lifted the last bit of stained terrycloth up, the blood drained out of my face, and I had to take a deep breath to keep myself from losing consciousness._

_The flesh of my arm was torn in two, the edges jagged and disconnected, moving grotesquely as I examined my limb. I could see the pink flesh of muscle beneath the ripped layers of skin, making spots appear in my vision. It was worse than I assumed; the skin of my arm was too loose, too far apart and I could barely manage seeing it for another second before I wrapped it tightly again in the towel, not caring that my rough movements were making my entire body heat with agony, and my vision pulsed with black before everything dimmed entirely, and I thought to myself: Maybe this isn’t the worst way to go._

I had woken up the next day in the hospital, twenty-five stitches running through the inflamed skin on my arm, my head pounding and my mouth dry. My mother was there when I awoke, saying that my father had come by and apologized, and that the flowers on the beside table were from him, so the next thing I did was toss those directly into the garbage. 

_What a pathetic apology from a pathetic man._

I spent a few days there, before returning home and locking myself in my room for three days, not willing to take even the slightest chance of seeing my father. The third day I was starving, spots dancing in my vision, and as I was about to brave the house that existed outside of my room, my mother came in and informed me that my father had taken off on a month-long excursion with a buddy and wouldn’t be back until after I left for Hogwarts. Though I wasn’t sure if this was coincidence, or if my mother had forced him to go to avoid any arguments and to save her precious house, I was glad all the same. The way that the entire event didn't even seem to register with my mother was enough indication that I couldn't rely on her protection anymore, though I never really had been able to. As my father had turned to alcohol, she had turned to work, throwing herself in so deep I hardly saw her. I wondered endlessly why she stayed with him. And why him taking out all his rage and anger at his own shortcomings on me, simply because I was around, hadn't been a reason to leave. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the end of the second week, Christmas having come and gone a few days earlier with no celebration at the house. I hadn’t seen my mother outside of a few random meetings in the hallway, as this time of year was “incredibly busy and you should know that, Elaine” which made me roll my eyes and wonder why she had fucking insisted on me coming home in the first place if she wasn’t going to give me the time of day. 

It was a Saturday, one I had spent intensely studying a portion of my Transfiguration textbook until my eyes felt like they were going to fall out, and I was feeling awful and lonely and empty, so I decided to get myself out of those seemingly ever-tightening walls and get a glass of water from the kitchen. It was late, and the lights had been switched off, so I stumbled my way down the stairs and round the corner into the kitchen, searching blindly for the switch. 

Finding it, I flipped it on, and was greeted with my father standing, _swaying_ , in the glow of the refrigerator, a sweaty beer clasped in his large hand. So many feelings flooded me that I lost my breath for a moment; the anxiety, the hatred, the pain all welling up to form a tangled knot in my chest, and I steeled myself for whatever this encounter might bring. 

My poor excuse for a father only noticed me after I accidentally _clinged_ my glass against a ceramic mug, making me wince. He turned around, his face a few days unshaven, his cheeks ruddy with alcohol. 

“E-Elaine,” He spoke, his grating voice scraping my ears. “Thought you were comin’ last week.”

I grit my teeth. “Did. Been up in my room, studying.” That was about as much as I could manage rationally. 

He thought for a moment. “Y-you and that dumb school of yours. Bet they don’t even really teach ya anything, just--” _hiccup_ “just, dunno, hypnotized the lot of you or some shit like that.” He snorted at his own joke, his beer sloshing in the bottle. 

“No. We have classes.” _Breathe, in, out, breathe._

“Stupidest shit ever, that’s what it is,” my father pronounced decidedly. 

I didn’t respond this time, bringing my glass to the sink and filling it up, the water spout moving far to slow for my taste. 

“T-that’s a gnarly scar,” my father pointed out, as the arm that was reached out was the one _he_ had graced with that ugly pink line. 

I froze, all of the pain and fright rushing back in one giant, all-encompassing wave. “ _What?_ ”

He gestured to my arm with his drink. “That scar, E.” His use of his old nickname for me made my hands shake, my water now threatening to crash down into the metal sink. “Nasty one.”

“Don’t play stupid,” I spat at him, setting my glass down angrily. 

“Whadya mean?” My father asked, taking a swig of his beer, some missing his mouth and dripping down onto his dingy wifebeater tank. 

Whirling around to face him entirely, I took in his pathetic form, feeling an odd sense of bravery well up in me---either bravery or complete stupidity. “You gave me this, you son of a bitch. On one of your fucking drunken tyraids that you ever so conveniently never fucking remember. Just like you gave me all of these,” I lifted up the hem of my sweater to show a spattering of circular scars, “and these,” I pulled down the shoulder of my sweater to show another set of identical marks, “as well as countless bruises and scratches and nasty words no self-respecting man would ever say to his own flesh and fucking blood, _Father_ .” My words were wild, angry, and the small still-rational part of me suggested that perhaps I stop, perhaps I should just move on, but I _couldn’t_ , not with the way the fury and rage were vibrating through my very being. After all these fucking years being pushed around and mistreated, I was fucking _done_ and I didn’t care what standing my ground cost me. Nothing was worth this, and no amount of self-restraint had gotten me anywhere other than being treated like I was worthless, like I was a waste of space, and maybe I had a death wish, maybe I was a glutton for pain and punishment, but I think I had reached my breaking point. After eight years of my father, the man who had so entirely doted on me as a child that I had never asked for anything and hadn't gotten it, had finally made me wholly despise him. I had fooled myself in ever thinking the father that used to love me was still around, and I had held onto that even through all the fights and accidents and injuries, because accepting I had lost him felt like my heart was shattering. 

“So don’t you dare act fucking innocent, you piece of shit. You’ve made my life hell ever since you lost your fucking job _eight years ago_ , because you’ve been wallowing in your own damn self pity ever since,” I accused, my heart racing, my body trembling where I stood. "You're so angry at yourself because you lost your dream job, because _you_ fucked up, that you have to take in out--" My voice cracked and my nose burnt with the beginning of tears, "that you have to take it out on your only child. But I'm done. I'm not letting you do that anymore, understand?" 

My father’s eyes grew wide in rage, and he rushed forward going to grab me, but I ducked. 

“You little bitch! Don’t say another word, or I swear to God, you’ll never see another day,” My father spat as he approached me. 

“Don’t touch me! I’m done with this. I hate you,” I seethed backing up into the cold refrigerator door’s surface. “Stay the fuck away.” 

“Like hell, you ungrateful brat. You think you can talk to your fucking father that way? I made you, and this is how you repay me?” My father yelled, throwing his beer bottle on the ground, sending liquid and glass scattering across the tile floor. “You’ll be lucky if you can go back to school if you keep talking to me like that,” He threatened, moving towards me. 

I knew I had only a few seconds to think before it was too late, and as I turned around to grab something, _anything,_ from the counter next to the fridge that would protect me, my father’s fist connected with the side of my face, agony radiating immediately from my cheekbone, and I cried out. I turned back around as he wound up to swing again, and I spotted a large vase on the kitchen island, whatever had occupied it being long dead and brown. Ducking once again under his arm, I grabbed the vase and brought it crashing down on my father’s stupid fucking balding head, the noise so loud it shocked me. 

The impact should’ve knocked him out cold; should’ve, but didn’t. He turned around, his face stormy with rage, purple bits of glass in his hair and on his shoulders as he grabbed me, pinning me in place with his tight grip before landing another blow to my face, and a third to my stomach. I bent over, gasping for breath as he released me. 

My face was so painful I could barely see, and I was taking short gasping breaths as he pulled me upright by my long hair, his face so close the beer on his breath was suffocating my nose. “You have until tomorrow morning to get out. You ever fucking come back here, and I swear, Elaine, you'll fucking regret it.” 

Though my face was on fire, though I could barely breathe, a strange sense of _finality_ poured through my veins as I realized what that meant. Homeless, maybe, but _free_ , no longer obligated to suffer through being his child any more.

All I could think about as he released me was leaving, getting to the sanctuary of my room, so I ignored the burning in my chest and scalp, the lighting bolts of pain shooting through my face as I dashed to my room, stumbling a few times in my haste. Slamming my door, I made sure to lock it before falling to the floor, silent sobs wracking my frame. I let myself fall apart for fifteen minutes, let myself feel all the anguish and fright and pain and loneliness that I had put at bay for the last two weeks. I let it rip me apart, let it gut me wholly, and when that fifteen minutes was up, I gathered myself together, and though my eyes were red, swollen, my left one hot with pain, and my tears were still drying on my face, I began shoving things in my pack, grateful that I had thought to pack light. Packing gave me a moment to actually register that I had just stood up to my father for the first time. For the first time, I had fought for myself, defended myself, because no one else had ever bothered to here. Pride welled up in me, and it gave me a new sense of self; I didn’t have to put up with this awfulness ever again. Not just from my father, but from _anyone._

I didn’t bother to see what the state of my face was, as I was sure it was unpleasant and I had more important things to deal with. I put a few of my most prized books in there as well before deciding to grab one more bag to bring things that I couldn’t replace with me. Books, pictures, a few items of clothing, money (Muggle and Wizard), and a few trinkets that had sentimental meaning were put in that second bag, and though it was nearly midnight, I decided I might as well leave now, because there was no use staying in this hellhole any longer than I needed to. I didn’t even contemplate leaving a note saying goodbye to my mother, as she most likely wouldn’t even notice I was gone, and she barely deserved that kindness, anyways. 

As quietly as I could, I shouldered my two bags, opened my door and made my way down the hall, down the stairs, to the front door before pausing. Seeing the piano, my beloved piano, is when it all hit me. I was _leaving._ Relief swallowed me whole as tears of joy, of freedom swelled in my throat. I never had to deal with my mother brushing me off, or inviting all sorts of businessmen that made my stomach twist over. I never had to come back to this nightmare of emptiness, of sorrow and pain. I never had to see the faint pink stains that still remained on the bathroom floor, never had to see the fridge only filled with booze, never again would I have to be afraid of existing. 

  
No, now I could finally break free of this hell my father and mother called a life. I think, without realizing it, I had been waiting for something like this to happen for quite a while. Either waiting or wishing for some excuse to never have to go back to that dark, unpleasant house. I had no clue what I was going to do, where I was going to live after this year at Hogwarts was up, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about _anything_ as I twisted the lock open on the door and walked through without a second glance back, the freezing night air welcoming me with open arms.


	15. Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -no content warnings- this chapter is super long, so sorry in advance, but I think you'll all enjoy it! I think we've hit around the halfway mark in the story, which is kinda crazy, but I've got some really good ideas for future chapters. I'm thinking about doing the next chapter from Malfoy's perspective to kind of move the storyline along, so please let me know if that's something you'd like reading! enjoy:)

I ended up spending the night in a...less than pleasant little motel that offered little more than a bed to sleep on and a roof over my head, but it was better than sleeping on the street. 

Probably.

I had to be rather particular about where I stayed, as I had no car, little money, and no phone to call help with, along with what looked like a brilliant black eye that spread up my cheekbone as well. Any place that wasn’t intended for single night visits and a promise of non-disclosure would undoubtedly raise questions, and I simply was not in the mood for interference from anybody. The motel I stumbled upon was dingy, the lights over the reception desk flickering half-heartedly, and I got a wary feeling as I took in the state of my room, but it was only for the one night, as the next day I was going to return to Hogwarts a bit early. Luckily, I had just enough for the one night stay, a cab, and a ticket to get onto the Hogwarts Express, but that meant yet another night with an empty belly. I could live with that, really; it wasn’t if that was something new to me. It did do a wonderful job of keeping me up that night, though. 

As I lay on the squeaky bed, the cold seeping into my bones because I was not willing to risk slipping under the covers, my face throbbed horribly and I let out a frustrated huff. Sure, everyone close to me knew my dad hit me somehow, but god, did I really have to walk around for the first few weeks sporting a shiner that was practically a magnet for stares? I hadn’t thought about what I was going to tell my friends, because honestly I wasn’t entirely sure that I wanted to tell them the whole truth. They were most likely my best bet for somewhere to stay after this year, so some truth would probably have to come out at some point. My brain ran slower and slower as I thought, tiredness begging me to shut my eyes and rest and start recuperating from the strenuous and difficult things that I had gone through that day. I finally drifted off to sleep thinking about spending summers at the Burrow, thinking about the way Harry’s green eyes shone in the yellow sun and the sound of his laughter over the splashing of water and how kissing him would taste like salt and warm summer air. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That morning, I woke with an aching body, the pain in my face dimmed down to a faint heat, but any extreme movement from my eye or brow caused the fire to burn bright, shooting up to my forehead and down the side of my face. I also woke with a determination to finally sit down with Harry and tell him that I wanted him, wanted all of him and that I wanted to be entirely his as well. The thought didn’t scare me as much as it did a few weeks ago, and I didn’t know what had changed, but the giddiness I felt was something that hadn’t been around for a very, very long time. 

The cheap black alarm clock read in glowing blue digits that it was seven a.m., and even though the Hogwarts Express wasn’t set to depart until ten a.m., I decided to gather my things and make my way to King’s Cross, as waiting at the station was probably a bit less scary than waiting in this dingy motel room. Bending down to pick up my larger bag, soreness shot through my middle and I groaned softly, remembering that it was likely a good idea to assess the damage before I made my way on. 

I walked to the tiny bathroom, my socked feet padding softly on the thin carpet. The bathroom light flickered on to reveal a toilet, a rather unpleasant stain on the ceiling and a shower curtain that definitely had some sort of mold growing in between the fabric and the plastic liner, making my lip curl in disgust. The grout in between the yellowing tiles wasn’t much cleaner, but I swallowed my distaste and turned towards the mirror mounted on the wall. 

The sight of myself genuinely made me flinch. A vicious red, slowly purpling bruise was painted underneath my eye and up my temple, my lid a spatter of scarlet as well. My hair was mussed, surely wildly tangled in the back, and my face seemed more...hollow, though there was an unusual fire in my eye that surprised me. Lifting up my sweater revealed only a faint red circle, which I was grateful for. All in all, not wonderful.

But not the worst I’ve ever looked, so I decided it was not the end of the world. 

Mostly, I was angry because my father’s drunken rage had left a visible mark, which meant an endless barrage of questions from friends and teachers alike. And…

I groaned. _Malfoy_ . I just knew he would give me shit for it; yes, even though I had saved him from his father, he would still torment me about mine. I was certain about that. That was the only thing that set my nerves alight as I thought about returning today, otherwise I could hardly wait for the smell of the pine trees lining the Great Hall and the drafty breeze that floated through the stone castle and the _food_. My mouth was practically watering just at the thought. I never ate well at home, and most of that was really my fault; I had never bothered to learn to cook, surviving off of microwave meals and snacks instead. 

Decided that the bruise was what it was and that there was no use in fussing about something unchangeable, I exited the bathroom and changed into a heavy dark blue sweater and worn black pants with a black scarf wrapped around my neck to keep some of the chilly January air from gnawing at my skin. My hair was far too unruly to gather it into anything but a low messy bun, so I made do, bits of hair slipping out to brush my face as I tried futilely to get them to stay back. Giving up, I gathered my things, the small amount of what was now my only possessions aside from my things at Hogwarts making my heart prick with sadness, but I could always get new things. Things that were part of whatever new life I was going to scrounge up for myself. 

The motel hallway was empty thankfully, and the red-eyed clerk merely grunted as I placed my metal key on the counter and made my way out the doors into the freezing morning air. Thanking myself for grabbing enough money for a taxi, I found one and told the driver to go to King’s Cross before resting my head against the chilled window and letting out a small sigh. The cab driver had barely spared me a second glance, and I was sure I was not the worst-looking individual he’d ever picked up from this establishment, which shouldn’t have been comforting but oddly was. 

Dirty, slushy snow covered the roads and sprayed onto the sidewalk as I rode in the taxi, the winter now fully in swing. I was sad that I had missed Christmas this year, but there were always other times to celebrate with my friends, even as the lack of warm holiday food and the excitement of presents made me feel rather down. I was grateful that the driver didn’t seem to be one for conversation, as I was in no mood to answer any prying questions, quite content to stare out of the hazy window for the remainder of the journey. 

Once the cab arrived at the station, I hauled my things out of the car, paid the driver who barely acknowledged me, and trudged into King’s Cross, hunching my shoulders to fight off some of the icy wind that was swirling through the misty morning air. The station was rather empty, which was a relief; it made ducking through the brick wall much easier due to the absence of prying eyes. Shining in all her burgundy and black glory, the Hogwarts Express sat still on the tracks, the slow bustle of its operators the only movement besides one or two other students milling about that had arrived even earlier than I had. 

I plopped down on a bench lining one of the brick columns, gladly shoving off my rather heavy packs and sighing. The clock that was attached to the column to my left read that I still had another two or so hours before the train was set to depart, so I decided to pull out a book to read while waiting, hoping that the time passed fast.

As the minutes went on, more and more students entered through the wall, some chattering excitedly, some sitting silently, like me. There weren’t many people, as I expected, because classes didn’t resume until Monday, and many of Hogwart’s occupants wanted to spend as much time as possible at home with their families. I suspected that many of the people here though, like myself, wanted the exact opposite. I said hello to a few students I knew, though none were really more than acquaintances, and finally, the call came to begin loading onto the train to return to school. Picking up my bags, I made my way onto the train along with the rest of the crowd, selecting an empty compartment to sit in, hoping to catch up on some sleep that evaded my grasp last night. 

The soft seats provided a wonderful makeshift bed, and I made myself comfortable, using an extra sweater as a little pillow to rest my head on. Because of my tired state, the ride passed quickly, and soon I was blinking open my sleep-heavy eyes at the noise of rapping knuckles on the compartment door, a kind voice letting me know it was time to get off. As I wrestled my eyes open, I noticed it was Luna who had woken me, and I offered her a small smile, sitting up and stretching my arms overhead. 

Luna opened the door for me once I grabbed my things. “Didn’t get much rest last night?” She asked in that familiar, dreamy voice of hers, her white-blonde hair floating around her as if an invisible wind fluttered around her. 

I shook my head. “No, not really,” I answered, following her off the train. 

She hummed to herself. “You know, you might have some Wrackspurts following you around. They make your brain all fuzzy and odd.”

I had no idea whether or not Wrackspurts were real, though I had heard her talk about them on a few occasions, and merely responded with, “You know, Luna, you may be right.”

“If you want, I can help you get rid of them,” She offered kindly as she got into an empty carriage, holding her hand out and gesturing for me to hand her a bag. 

I pulled the lighter one off my shoulder and held it out to her, giving her a smile as thanks. Climbing into the carriage, I sat opposite her, the left side of my face unmissable as it was lit by the dim winter afternoon sun. 

Luna furrowed her blonde eyebrows. “Are you alright, Elaine? That looks like it hurts.” Her soft voice was full of concern, and I waved my hand dismissively, not ready to get into it. 

“You know me, always a bit clumsy. Just fell down and hit my head,” I lied, and because Luna was quite smart, I knew she didn’t believe me, but because it was Luna, she simply nodded and pulled out her copy of _The Quibbler_ , it’s bright cover full of odd creatures and advertising a story inside on something called Moon Frogs. 

The silence as we approached the looming castle was cozy, as it always was with Luna. I shivered, even in my heavy sweater, and hoped that the common room fire was roaring when we arrived. I walked with Luna to the Ravenclaw tower once we arrived, her focus still entirely taken up by her odd magazine, even as we walked up the winding staircase to the top of the rather tall structure. We passed a handful of people on our way, most of whom had stayed over the entire holiday break, their conversations full of what they got for Christmas and what the next term was going to be like. 

At the mention of presents, I remembered the one that I had found in my pack from Hermione and Cho, and as soon as Luna and I had answered the riddle and made our way to our shared dormitory, the first thing I did was pull out the perfectly wrapped present. The wrapping paper was a shiny silver, and the little tag read _To: Our lovely Lainy From: Hermione and Cho_ followed by a small heart that made me smile. Carefully pulling apart the paper, the wrapping revealed a beautiful new set of mittens in a gorgeous dark green, along with a breathtakingly bound new book about wizard poetry and short stories. I nearly sighed out loud as I slipped my hands into the warm wool, so grateful for such a seemingly small gift from my two wonderful friends. Lifting the mittens out of the wrapping paper had revealed a small, folded up note that I had to take the mittens off to unfold. 

_Dear Elaine,_

_Happy Christmas!Cho knitted the mittens herself, as you know I am horrid at knitting, but the idea was mine after I saw that you didn’t have any this year, and I picked out the book. We both love you terribly, and hope that you like them! Can’t wait to see you after break._

_With love,_

_Hermione and Cho_

Happiness swelled in me as I surveyed their wonderful gift, though a bit of guilt began creeping in as I realized that I hadn’t gotten them, or any of my friends anything, due the limited amount of money I had. I knew they would understand, but I still wished that I could show them how much I cared for them by giving them something. 

Placing the mittens and book gently on my nightstand, I began unpacking my things, shoving my extra possessions from home haphazardly in my trunk, promising myself I would sort through them later. For now, though, all I wanted to do was go down to the Great Hall and eat my fair share of the delectable food that was always present. Luna declined my offer of joining me, saying that she wanted to go hunt down some wild creature she had read about in _The Quibbler_ , but told me to enjoy myself as I exited the dorm. 

The halls were rather quiet as I walked, and I enjoyed the comforting absence of noise. Even the Great Hall was rather empty at that time, and once I had eaten myself nearly sick with the warm, spiced food, I decided perhaps a nice visit to Hagrid was in order. As I braved the freezing weather, I wished that I had brought my new gloves with me, shoving my hands as deep as I could into my pants pockets instead. Knocking quickly on his hut’s wooden door, my face burst into a giant grin as Hagrid’s massive form filled his small doorway. 

“Elaine!” He bellowed happily, gathering me into a crushing hug, nearly knocking the wind out of me. “How are ya?”

I pulled back as he let go, laughing softly. “Just wonderful! Yourself?” 

My joy plummeted as Hagrid’s previously excited face dropped into a frown. “Tell me that black eye ain’t where I think it’s from,” He said, a rare anger filling his gruff voice. 

“It’s really okay,” I started, knowing it was no use lying to him. “It was the last time it’ll ever happen.” 

Hagrid ushered me out of the cold as I spoke, sitting me down in front of the roaring fire and pouring some steaming tea into a massive mug that he handed me before he poured one for himself and sat in the huge chair on the other side of the fire. 

“Whaddya mean, the last time?” He inquired, his face full of concern. 

I took a sip of the piping tea before answering, the warmth burning my mouth slightly as I swallowed the honey and orange flavor. “My father and I got into it, and I guess he finally had enough of me, so he kicked me out,” I explained, the twin feelings of relief and anxiety twirling around me. 

“Kicked you out?” Hagrid asked, setting down his mug sharply. “If I ever get my hands on your sorry excuse for a father, if he ever lays a hand on you again, I---”

I cut him off. “No, no, I think it’s a good thing. This means I don’t have to go back. I’ll find somewhere else to live before the end of the year or… I dunno, maybe Dumbledore would let me stay here over the summer. I don’t know,” I repeated, gazing into the orange blaze in front of me. “I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out.”

Hagrid shook his head, his bushy beard swaying with the movement. “Yer always welcome here, okay? I know it’s not much,” He said, his eyes sweeping his small hut. “But I figure it’s better than nothin’.” 

I felt tears prick my eyes, and I took another sip of the slowly cooling tea to stop my eyes from watering. “Thank you, Hagrid. It means the world to me. This would be a wonderful place to stay. I’ll let you know, okay?” I said softly, and though the hut wasn’t fancy or spacious, his offer really did mean more to me than I could ever say. 

I stayed a while longer, sipping my tea as Hagrid told me about his excursion to the mountains to visit his giant half-brother, who seemed like a very interesting character. Hagrid’s stories never failed to make me laugh wildly, especially his excessive gestures with his rather large hands, and I felt some of the sadness slip away and burn up in the heat of the crackling flames and the sweet taste of my tea. 

After an hour or so, I bid Hagrid farewell, earning another bone-crushing hug from him, and faced the icy weather once again. As the air bit at my nose, I suddenly remembered the Felix Felicis that I had stashed away under my mattress at the beginning of the school year, and I could’ve smacked myself in frustration. It had completely slipped my mind between everything that had gone on since September, and I found myself itching to use it soon. I made a mental note about it, swearing to myself to find a situation where I could finally test out its effects, which made me a bit excited. The possibilities were genuinely quite endless, and I pondered what I could use it for as I briskly made my way to the protection of the solid stone walls of the castle. 

_Of course._

Harry. I would use it right before I told Harry how I felt; that way, I wouldn’t be nervous. I knew it lasted an hour or so, but beyond that, I wasn’t really sure exactly _how_ it worked. 

_Guess you’ll find out._

I grinned to myself, excited to use it and excited to see my friends after two long weeks. The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, but I figured I still had a few hours before the rest of Hogwarts returned, so I decided to make good on my promise to myself and go to the Room of Requirement to find a piano and finally play again. It had been so long since I had even felt the urge to play, and much longer since I had actively sought out to do so. I longed for the feel of the smooth ivory keys beneath my fingertips, so I wound through the corridors as quickly as I could until turning into the non-descript hallway that held the marvelously secret room. 

The tapestry that hung opposite of the room that depicted Barnabas the Barmy floated gently in an invisible wind as I approached the normally plain wall, which began transforming into a beautifully ornate metal door. The handle was cold as I went to heave open the heavy door, but I was met with a delicious warmth as I entered. I had never been in this version of the room before, with piles of books and scrolls and a massive couch and an odd, tall cabinet and... _oh._

Against the right wall lay the nicest piano I had ever laid eyes on. It was a deep, almost-black midnight blue, the keys gleaming dimly in the lantern light. The lid was propped open to reveal the complicated strings, and the bench was the perfect height as I sat down, almost afraid to touch it, afraid to dirty it with my fingerprints. I could hardly resist for more than a few seconds after I spotted the large shelf to the left of the piano that was brimming with sheet music. I rifled through the rows until I found a piece that I was a bit familiar with and that looked simple enough, and I sat down, letting out a deep exhale as I brought my hands down on the keys. The sound that floated out was almost enough to make my chest seize with nostalgia, the floating melody swallowing me in its beauty. 

It had been years since I had dared to play, and though my fingers stumbled a bit, soon my muscles remembered the movements and I was entirely engrossed in producing the melancholy tune; so engrossed, in fact, that I didn’t notice I had company until I faltered on a note and heard a snicker behind me. 

Whirling around, the obnoxiously lean figure of Malfoy stood a few feet behind me. I felt frustration storm in me as I saw him, not yet ready to stop playing. 

“What the hell are you doing in here?” I questioned, swinging around and standing up off the bench. 

Malfoy was wearing a rather expensive-looking charcoal sweater, a white collar sticking out beneath the v-neck. It hugged his shoulders and arms quite tightly, showing off the lithe muscle that just seemed to build and build this year. He slid his hands in his pockets, looking annoyingly relaxed. “I could ask you the same. I thought others couldn’t get into this room. It’s mine.”

I snorted. “Yours? I came in here to play piano. What, did your daddy force you to take lessons as a kid and still makes you practice?” 

Malfoy’s silver eyes flickered almost unnoticeably to the looming cabinet on the far wall. “None of your business, Adler. Nice black eye, by the way,” He sneered, stepping toward me. “Must’ve been a pretty solid hit to get such a shiner.” His smile was unnerving as he studied my face. 

“Fuck off. I fell,” I defended, trying to sound as forceful as possible, sticking with the same lie I had fed Luna. I hoped that Malfoy would actually buy it. 

Malfoy barked out a laugh. “Sure, Adler. I’m not a fucking idiot. I know a black eye from a punch when I see it. Did your father finally get tired of your ugly face, or could he just not put up with his pathetic offspring any longer?” 

Fury bit at me as he spoke, his drawl easy even as his words were harsh. “I told you, Malfoy. I fucking fell. Drop it,” I warned, though genuine pain had snuck into my voice, making my voice splinter, making me grit my jaw. 

I must’ve been more tired than I thought, or the dim light was playing tricks, because I could’ve sworn I saw a glimmer of something akin to unease flash in Malfoy’s stormy eyes before that coldness rushed in again. 

“You’re a damn idiot if you think anyone will believe that, especially with what they know about your father,” Malfoy retorted, sitting on the arm of the couch casually, as if he wasn’t addressing my issues with my father. 

All the warmth and joy that had been building up in me since I got back was washed away by a wave of fiery hatred towards the pale boy sitting a few feet in front of me, his blond hair glinting in the lamplight, his skin looking nearly translucent and the veins on his strong hands popped in the shadows of the wanly lit room. He was the perfect picture of confidence, of arrogance as he sat berating me. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I _fell,_ ” I insisted, not entirely sure why it was so important to me that Malfoy believed my little fallacy. “You can think whatever you want; I don’t care.”

_Oh, yes, you do_. 

“Then why, Adler, are you trying so hard to convince me? Why do you care what I believe happened?” Malfoy questioned, his eyes piercing my own, making my blood heat. 

“I don’t,” I said simply, though it was a lie. “You’re just a cocky bastard who thinks he knows everything. You don’t, okay?” I hadn’t moved from my spot, but Malfoy suddenly stood, his aura of ease slipping away as he approached, stopping when he was right in front of me. 

“I know far more than you think,” Malfoy responded, his eyes traveling the length of the splatter of purples and reds lining my eye and temple. “I know what it looks like when someone gets hit in the face by someone else.” It was left unsaid, but the implication was there; he knew, because he had seen it on himself many times. “I know what that pounding headache feels like the next day, and I know that every movement of your face makes it ache.” 

He reached out with a long, thin thumb, his skin cool as he lightly brushed my aching bruise once, twice, before dropping his hand quickly. I nearly flinched back as he lifted his hand, but at the uncharacteristically soft motions, my heart pounded as he touched me, the movement so unlike him, so...gentle. I winced when he pressed a bit too hard near the corner of my eye, and I felt a disturbing mix of gratefulness and sadness as he pulled away that was immediately reduced to rage as he spoke his next words. “What did you do to make your father hit you?”

My face twisted with shock. “What did _I_ do to _make him_ ? You’re a fucking prick, you know that? I didn’t _do_ anything,” I retorted angrily, stepping back out of his reach, though the icy ghost of his hand still lingered on my warming face, and I prayed it was simply heating up from the frustration and not because that prick had touched me. 

Malfoy rolled his eyes, but spoke again. “Fine, Adler. Semantics. What happened, then?” 

“Why do you even care? So you can throw it back in my face later?” I questioned, rather confused as to why he was even interested outside of wanting to use it to hurt me at a later time. 

“What, I can’t be curious? You’ve shown up back to school with a nasty black eye, one that is impossible to miss, and you’re angry because I asked what happened?” Malfoy snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”

I let out a breath of frustration. “Yes, because it is so insane for me to assume that you would use something like this against me, even though I never spoke a _word_ about what happened the last time we were in here to anyone,” I snarled, feeling the tension of rage in my entire body.

Ignoring my mention of that night, he persisted. “What happened?”

“God, is that all you can say? I fell. Believe me, or don’t, but that’s what happened,” I snapped, going to turn away from him, but as I did, an iron grip clamped onto my bicep, making me jerk and turn back towards Malfoy. “What the hell? Let go,” I demanded, but he only yanked me closer, close enough to smell his cologne and the faint scent of fresh laundry. 

“What happened?” Malfoy asked once more, this time in a softer tone, though the hand that was wrapped around my sweater-clad arm was tight enough that I thought it might bruise. His face was close to mine; his silver eyes shining with tenacity, his rosy lips pressed in a tight line. My eyes stuck on the tiniest bits of blond stubble lining his jaw before I spoke, moved by the pain in my arm. 

“Fine. He hit me, okay? Is that what you want to hear? My father fucking punched me, and then told me to get out and never come back,” I hissed, tears of anger burning my nose. “I stood up to my stupid father, and he hit me and then kicked me out. Happy?” 

Malfoy didn’t say anything for a few seconds, his grip still tight on my arm. “See, was that so hard?” He asked, almost...kindly? 

_No, not kindly. You’re just tired._

“Why do you care so damn much anyways?” I asked once more, trying to tug my arm once, twice, out of his lethal grip. 

He studied my face for a moment, an odd look on his face, as if he were asking himself that same question. 

“Why?” I persisted, curious as to why this boy, who had never been anything but vile to me, was suddenly so interested in what had hurt me, when he had only ever laughed at my pain before. 

A strange emotion flashed in Malfoy’s stormcloud eyes before he let go of my arm like it had burnt him. “Get out.” 

It was said so softly I could barely hear him, but I still replied, “What? No, I was here first.” 

His calm demeanor vanished in a heartbeat, fire lighting his eyes with rage. “Get. Out!” He yelled, so loudly that I visibly flinched, an odd hurt and sadness shooting through me from his harsh tone. 

I stood there shocked, before he yelled, “Now!” He was practically spitting, he was so furious. I had no clue what had caused his sudden change, but I had no interest in already being in the path of his fury on my first day back, so I rushed past him, looking back only as I opened the door. He was still where he stood, his hands shaking and his breathing slightly ragged. 

The freezing corridor air met my cheeks in a stinging kiss as I shut the door quickly behind me, confused and tired. Malfoy had always acted a bit odd, but he had never done something like this. 

He had never... _cared._ Not about me, and I was fairly certain he didn’t care about anyone at all, for that matter. The black eye was noticeable, I knew that, but if I had to deal with pestering from everyone like Malfoy, I was tempted to just hide in my dormitory until it faded into an unnoticeable yellow. 

The thing that really threw me most as I began making my way back to the Ravenclaw common room was the fact that he had been concerned about what had happened, and not so that he could use it against me later. That, I truly did not understand, and I had a feeling I might never understand it. I hated that it sparked something in me, a low flame in my core, especially as I thought of his ice-cold finger brushing my face and the way he didn’t recoil immediately at the feeling of my skin against his. 

_“Hate” is not the right word._

I sighed angrily, brushing back the tendrils of hair that had sprung loose from my bun from earlier that morning. I refused to acknowledge that him pulling me in, being so persistant and so concerned one moment and acting as though merely touching me disgusted him the next caused my heart to contract.

It did, though, and I couldn't, with all my rationale and wisdom as a damn Ravenclaw, figure out why. 

Rounding the corner into the main stairwell of the castle, I noticed the huge crowds of students freshly in from the cold, judging by their flushed cheeks and stiff bodies, and excitement surged through me, realizing this meant my friends had finally returned. I had ended up closer to the Gryffindor common room, so I decided to rush there first, wanting to embrace my companions in massive hugs and thank Hermione for the gift. Bounding up the stairs, I pushed past a few students that gave me dirty looks, but I brushed it off, my only focus on seeing my friends again after such an awful holiday. Finally, just as I reached the final set of stairs, I caught a quick glimpse of a bright ginger head and a darker one beside it, and my face split into a huge smile. They reached the landing first, and as the crowded cleared a bit, I noticed that it was Ginny, not Ron, that was with Harry, and that her fingers were intertwined with Harry’s, a shy smile plastered on her lips as he leaned down to press a soft peck to her mouth. 

My breath stopped, cut short by the shock, my blood turning to ice as I reached the landing outside the common room as well. I couldn't help the cold jealousy that flooded me as I looked at Ginny, her long, red hair smooth and perfectly straight, her body thin and tall; everything about her was so stupidly ideal. A sour, horrid feeling sunk my stomach as Ginny noticed me first, and pushed Harry gently off her, too gently, and he whirled around, his handsome face immediately dropping with guilt. 

_Good._

“Elaine, I--” Harry began, faltering as Hermione and Ron appeared from the stairwell, their hands intertwined as well, and I felt as though I was going to be sick. 

Hermione noticed the pain on my face, and let go of Ron’s hand to reach out for mine, but I kept mine glued to my side. “Harry, you said you told her,” She accused, pointing a stern look his way, one that made even Ron balk. 

“I--I said I was going to,” Harry stammered, clearly caught off guard. “But---but…” 

It was just then that he noticed my eye, and all my friend’s gazes followed. “Elaine, your eye...what---”

I cut Harry off. “I should’ve known, and it’s my fault for thinking you’d ever choose anyone over her,” I said, gesturing to Ginny, whom I knew wasn’t really at fault, but I still couldn’t help the bitterness that bloomed in my chest at the sight of her. “I’m glad I found out like this. Otherwise, I would’ve kept making a fool of myself for you to laugh at. Was any of what you claimed to feel for me even real?” Part of me wanted him to say no, but another part of me desperately hoped he’d say yes. 

I didn’t know, though, which would be worse. 

“I didn’t lie to you, okay? I never could lie to you, Elaine, you’re my closest friend. I--I just,” Harry seemed to not be able to find the right words, find the words that could possibly assuage any of his guilt that was plastered on his face. “I just realized I felt things for Ginny for a while now, and you helped me see that.” 

I laughed, the sound packed with ire and sourness. “Well, that’s just wonderful. I am so glad that your little excursion with me was just a way to make you see you really wanted someone else. Was what we did even... did you even care about me when we...” I struggled to get it out, but by the looks on everyone's faces, I knew they knew what I was talking about. 

Hermione and Ron were still looking a bit shocked, and that comforted me somewhat, because at least I knew that I had them still. 

“Elaine, come on, that isn’t fair,” Harry argued, stepping forward to do...something, but I stepped back, running into the cool stone banister behind me.

“Oh, that isn’t fair? I am so sorry, Harry,” I spat. “You’re right. _I’m_ not being fair.” 

Hermione and Ginny both winced at my tone, but I continued. “I had the most awful two weeks, and I was coming here to tell you,” I said angrily, poking his chest, “That I wanted to be with you, but I guess Ginny beat me to it.” 

Ginny gulped. “Listen, it wasn’t what you’re thinking. I-I don’t know how it happened, really. You two were never really technically...together, anyways, were you?” 

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, not wanting to look childish in the face of this mess. “You know what? You’re right. Harry never said he wanted to be with me like that, so it’s okay for him to just mess with my feelings and move on to another girl and I should just be fine with it, because why would my closest friend tell me the truth? Why should he spare me the decency of telling me first that he didn’t like me in that way before he moved on? Especially after he was my first? Why should I expect him to respect me even that much?” I spat, my eyes narrowing in a hostile glare towards Harry, and I tried not to wince as the movement pulled on the tender skin of my temple. 

The hurt was there, and it was overwhelming, and I could’ve sworn hateful tears were going to pour down my face at any second, but the anger and the vindictiveness was far easier to focus on right now. It wouldn’t make me fall apart to embrace the fire building in me. 

“I’m sorry. Really, Elaine, more than you know,” Harry pleaded, and everyone else’s eyes on us felt far too intrusive. 

I shook my head. “Save it, Potter, for someone who will actually listen to your shit. My bad for believing that you would ever stoop low enough to be with me.” 

An unfair blow, and I almost regretted it once the words registered on Harry’s face. 

Almost. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but I had, quite frankly, heard enough, my temper running even shorter than normal due to the bizarre encounter with Malfoy just minutes earlier. Turning to Ron and Hermione, I said genially, “Thanks for the gift. I’ll see the two of you later.” 

Hermione smiled softly at me, and Ron was still red in the face from the stressful situation, so he just nodded in agreement. I could feel Harry’s gaze on me as I turned, and though it would’ve felt so good to let the tears go right then, I held them in until I reached the privacy of my empty room, and let all my sadness and hurt and confusion about the events of the day out in the form of quiet sobs.


	16. Splinter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is, a draco chapter! it's a bit short, and it's mostly the last chapter from his perspective, but i think it's different enough that it'll be interesting to read! i really like this chapter and i hope you guys do too. thank you, as always, for all the support and comments and everything <3

Going home for holiday break had been equally nice and stressful, as always. Draco’s father had never been the affectionate sort growing up, instead choosing to use harsh words and consequences in lieu of any sort of praise or encouragement, and this time was no different in that regard, though his father had been much, much angrier when he had come home for Christmas.

And he got through it. Like he always did. 

Shutting down and pushing himself to the limit was really the only way to deal with his father; he had learned that as a very young wizard. Draco’s mother, though, was the day to his father’s night, the cool spring wind to his father’s raging fall fires, and Draco loved her dearly for that. His mother had showered him with praise and expressed how proud she was about his schoolwork this year, and gave him a wildly expensive engraved watch that read, _To my son, who gives my life light and purpose._ She had always seen the good in him, even when, like now, he hardly believed there was any left in him at all. 

Returning to Hogwarts after break was always bittersweet, for as much as he spouted hatred for the school, there were quite a few things that he genuinely enjoyed, but he would never tell anyone that. 

He did have a reputation to uphold, after all. 

Draco’s break had gone by rather fast, and now he was returning to Hogwarts, the noon sun shining weakly through a heavy layer of clouds as he stalked into the castle and made his twisting way down into the damp dungeon. The Slytherin common room wasn’t very busy; a few bored-looking students ambled about, relaxing in front of the fire or talking in small groups with hushed voices. When Draco had walked in, a few first years stumbled out of his way, not wanting to be on the receiving end of one of his intense glares, which filled him with a nasty sort of proudness. He set his stuff down in his shared dormitory, the slightest whiff of boyish stink hitting his nose as Draco saw Crabbe lounging lazily on his bed, his things strewn about haphazardly, which had always annoyed Draco to no end ever since they began school here. Instead of deigning to speak to the brute, Draco simply huffed in disgust and began unpacking his things, his sweaters and jeans the same black and green and grey color palette of his current outfit. 

He had tried his best not to think about the wretched cabinet in one of his versions of a room in the Room of Requirement during his holiday, but the moment the soon-to-be-tattooed pale flesh on his arm peaked out of the hem of his expensive black, rolled sweater sleeve as he reached into his trunk that he had placed on his bed, that ended. The blank space made his stomach roll as he remembered that he had to continue trying to work out that cabinet; merely being around it for too long made him feel awful and tired and he wished that he could figure it out already so that he could stop his semi-weekly visits. 

It was an honour is what his father had whispered to him, his hand uncomfortably tight on his shoulder when he hesitated after the request from Voldemort had arrived at the Manor, and that is what Draco repeated to himself every time he had to make the long trek to the seventh floor like the way he was today. 

Arriving at the non-descript hallway, Draco looked around to assure that he was alone before approaching the wall, the heavy door carving itself from the stone surface. As he went to open the door, the gentle, floating sound of what he thought was a Muggle composer’s piano piece met his ears, the sound growing clear as he silently opened the door and walked in. At the sight of who was at the piano, Draco’s lip curled ever so slightly in disgust, his enemy’s long, thick hair swaying as Adler moved softly with the song. He hated to admit that her playing honestly wasn’t terrible; no, it was so good that he almost wished her hand hadn’t slipped into a dissonant chord and that he hadn’t snorted reflexively at her misfortune.

Draco was a mere few feet from the threshold of the room, the piano being seven or eight feet ahead of him, but as Adler turned around, he could see even from his far position the vibrant bruise that painted her eye and temple, the purples and reds screamingly harsh even in the flickering light of the lamps strewn about the room. Disgust ran through his stomach, and Draco couldn’t decipher whether it was from his hatred for the girl, or the sick feeling was from her being in pain, because strangely enough, both feelings were competing in him. 

Adler’s elegant face screwed into a look of frustration as she regarded Malfoy’s figure. “What the hell are you doing in here?” Her silvery voice asked. 

“I could ask you the same. I thought others can’t get into this room. It’s mine,” He spoke, trying to make his words casual even as the large presence of the dark cabinet in the corner of the room was threatening to take up all his attention. 

Her long legs were clad in jeans that were rather tight and her sweater, though thick, still hugged her new curves softly, Draco noticed as she stood. Yes, over the previous summer she had grown into her former ridiculously lanky build, her body now more slight and refined, but he refused to acknowledge how it made his brain perk with interest that first day on the train, mostly because his abhorrence of her was still the feeling that overwhelmed him merely at the sight of her. She made a bratty remark about his father forcing him to play piano, which was actually true, to Malfoy’s utter dismay as a child, but he, letting his gaze slip momentarily away from her, decided to needle her about that horrendous black eye she was sporting that looked like it still ached pretty terribly. 

Draco let a sly snarl slip onto his mouth as he spoke. “None of your business, Adler. Nice black eye by the way. Must’ve been a pretty solid hit to get such a shiner.” And because he couldn’t help himself, _hadn’t_ been able to help himself this year around her, he walked forward a bit, her vanilla and bergamot scent that he had become so familiar with the past few months brushed his nose, and he wrinkled it slightly. He knew that it would bother her to bring up her injury so brashly, and the evidence of that was clearly stamped in Adler’s expression as he looked at her. 

“Fuck off,” She retorted, though her voice waved ever so slightly. “I fell.”

He couldn’t hold in the laugh that built in his throat at her obvious lie, the sound sharp and mocking. “Sure, Adler. I’m not a fucking idiot. I know a black eye from a punch when I see it. Did your father finally get tired of your ugly face, or could he just not put up with his pathetic offspring anymore?” 

Adler’s face turned stone-cold, the way it always did when discussing her father. Draco hadn’t been completely honest; really, Adler wasn’t that ugly, and if she hadn’t been a Muggle, he would’ve chased after her with the offer of a one-night stand or some sort of meaningless, purely physical relationship a year or two ago when he began to really notice girls. Her hair framed her face in a way that always made her look soft, even though her cheeks were high and her nose was straight and strong, and her voice had a way of hitting a certain button within him that always caught his stupid attention, even when he was feeling more repulsed by her than usual. It just was a damn shame she was so dirty and the simple sight of her made him want to retch in disgust. Never in a million years would Draco ever lower himself so much as to _be_ with her. He’d rather die. 

“I told you, Malfoy. I fell. Drop it,” Alder said roughly, but he caught the sliver of pain that pierced her words, and he felt a similar feeling of... _something_ run through him as it registered in Draco’s mind the way she tightened up with fury and hurt. 

Her fiercely dark eyes met Draco’s, and he hoped that she hadn’t seen his moment of openness, but he knew he was foolish to think that she didn’t with the way her own shimmered in reply. He sat leisurely on the velvet couch, a bit tired from the day of travel. Her lie was ridiculous, and he hoped she didn’t actually think he was stupid enough to believe it, even for a moment. 

“You’re a damn idiot if you think anyone will believe that, especially with what they know about your father,” He snapped back, that particular feeling of annoyance and revulsion beginning to flow through his veins as it always did when he spoke to her, and between that and the looming presence of the shadowy cabinet in the corner, his mood was beginning to sour at an alarming rate. 

He could practically _see_ the anger that burst in her, and he held back a mocking laugh at her clenched fists. Draco’s face was a perfect picture of arrogance and snark as he regarded her. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I _fell._ You can think whatever you want. I don’t care,” Alder defended, her entire posture filled with the hate Draco knew she felt for him. 

He wasn’t entirely sure why she felt such an intense need to convince him, but he didn’t care because it was such an easy way to antagonize her, which was something he had found himself missing the past two weeks at home. It was an easy, rather quick way to relieve some of his ever-building stress that seemed to be always eating away at him no matter what he did. The only time it didn't seem so prevalent was when _she_ was around. 

“Then why, Adler, are you trying so hard to convince me? Why do you care what I believe?” He asked, scanning her face for any sort of panic or unpleasantry.

“I don’t. You’re just a cocky bastard who thinks he knows everything. You don’t, okay?” 

And there was something about her tone, about the way she seemed as though she was trying to contain a huge amount of anger and hurt, that made him suddenly stand and move towards her until he was only a foot away. The bruises on her soft skin were even more intricate and colorful up close, and it made him want to reach out and feel the thing that had been splattered across her face most likely by her father’s fist, made him want to, in some sick and twisted way, be familiar with her pain the way she had been with his on that night weeks ago. 

“I know far more than you think. I know what it looks like when someone gets hit in the face by someone else. I know what that pounding headache feels like the next day, and I know that every movement of your face makes it ache,” He said, trying to keep his voice low, level as he spoke. He ignored the flash of recognition in her eyes, because addressing what they both knew to be true about _his_ father was simply a dead end at this point, and one that always made a spark of old pain pulse through him.

The colors gracing her skin were just too enticing; he had to reach out a large, pale hand and brush that marred canvas, had to feel the thing that had caught his eye the second she turned to face him. Her skin was fiery beneath his, a faint pink dusting her skin as his thumb rubbed over her bruising. His cloudy eyes met hers, and as though he had awoken from a trance, Draco realized he was touching her, a filthy _Muggle,_ and snatched his hand back like the heat from Adler’s skin had hurt him. 

The curious look in Adler’s eyes was far too close to something that made Draco’s gut swirl with unease, so he searched for anything to say that would bring that hatred back into her dark, chilling gaze. 

“What did you do to make your father hit you?” He knew that wasn’t fair; his own father hit him for no reason, but he knew it was the perfect blow to anger her. 

And who cared about fair? He didn’t; not as long as Adler was involved. Earning those pained, anxious gazes from him when he attacked her made him bristle with pride every single time. 

Alder’s look was incredulous as she responded. “What did _I_ do to _make_ _him_? You’re a fucking prick, you know that? I didn’t _do_ anything,” She snarled, stepping out of his reach, which made a small part of him feel like he could breathe again. 

Draco rolled his eyes, though her response had led them out of that too-close bit of their encounter. “Fine, Adler. Semantics. What happened, then?” And Merlin curse him, he was far too curious for his own good as he realized he was genuinely curious and not just to pick at her. 

“Why do you even care? So you can throw it back in my face later?”

He wished that was the only reason as he spoke again. “What, I can’t be curious? You’ve shown up to school with a nasty black eye, one that is impossible to miss, and you’re angry because I asked what happened? You’re ridiculous.”

“Yes, because it is so insane for me to assume that you would use something like this against me, even though I never spoke a word about what happened the last time we were in here to anyone.”

Ignoring her, ignoring the brief flashback of pain, he persisted. “What happened?” He told himself he was doing it to bother her, to really make her _hurt_ , but a nasty, tiny voice pestered that that wasn’t the only reason, and it made him bubble with fury. 

“God, is that all you can say? I fell. Believe me or not, that’s what happened.” 

Something about her use of Muggle slang, or something about the way Draco was so curious, so oddly disgruntled by her injury made him grip onto her bicep tightly, squeezing until he saw her familiar wince of pain. He pulled her roughly closer to him, until her frame was nearly entirely overshadowed by his taller one. Her warmth and the smell of spiced perfume and faint cigarette smoke met his nose as she stood so near to him. 

Adler looked at him like he was out of his mind, and maybe he was. “What the hell? Let go!” Her feeble attempts to get out of his grasp make him snicker to himself, relishing the fact that he was so much stronger than her.

“What happened?” He asked again, the air between them suddenly too warm, too heavy as she searched his eyes, even flickering her gaze over his fucking mouth as he held her, making a flame flicker in his stomach, waiting for a response. He realized after the words left his mouth that his tone had become less angry and antagonizing, and more… _soft_ , he realized with dimmed unease; dimmed, because the heavy scent of her was bombarding his nose and she had stopped trying to pull away, and was instead locking eyes with him. 

“Fine. He hit me, okay? Is that what you want to hear? My father fucking punched me, and then told me to get out and never come back. I stood up to my stupid father, and he hit me and then kicked me out. Happy?” Alder hissed, though the faint shining in her eyes told Draco that she was far more wounded by the situation than she would ever admit. 

Draco waited for that usual feeling of flickering pride as she spoke, but the thing was, as they held that weighty silence for a few long moments, he _wasn’t_. He expected to feel snide or haughty or anything of that sort, but instead, he just felt sorry for the girl, and strangely infuriated. 

_Kicked her out? His own child?_

Even his own father, with all his faults and issues, would never leave him to his own devices like that, especially not while he was still in school, even though he was technically an adult. His father was rather harsh, but only for things that Draco could control or things that he should've done better; he never punished Draco for simply existing. Parents weren't supposed to do that, and maybe it was different in the Muggle world, but Draco could hardly believe it. 

“See, was that so hard?” He inquired, not unkindly, and hated himself even more for it.

“Why do you care so damn much, anyways?”

Draco didn’t respond right away, because he truly did not have a decent answer. The only answer that was so faint in the back of his mind that he could barely register it would’ve gotten him actually killed by his father this time, so he merely stayed quiet, though he could feel the anger and confusion beginning to boil. 

Adler’s deep, warm eyes searched his as she asked him again why he cared so much. Draco felt the ferocious fury inside him overwhelm any sort of gentleness at her pestering, and he struggled to keep calm before quickly letting go of her for the second time in as many minutes, barely holding in the urge to shove her away from him so roughly she landed on the hard stone floor. Draco struggled to keep his face blank as he spoke, almost too low for her to hear. 

“Get out.”

Her irritating little face twisted with confusion, and he could see her trademark stubbornness rearing its ugly head within her. “What? No, I was here first.”

And Merlin’s Beard, he could not _stand_ to be near this girl for another second, couldn’t stand her stupid doe eyes or her open emotions that plastered across her face or even just the feel of her skin under his, so he let that anger that had been stirring inside of him explode. 

“Get. Out!” He yelled, noting the flinch it caused Adler and storing it for a time that he could actually enjoy his negative effect on her. 

She stood there, stupidly still, until he yelled at her once more, the fire in his words scorching his throat. Draco knew that he wasn’t masking his feelings, and that was confirmed with the pitiful, scared look she spared him as she opened the door, but he couldn’t get a hold of the pure rage that was coursing through his blood, not until she was out of here and her scent dissipated as well. It had an irksome habit of lingering when he didn’t want it to. 

Draco stood there fuming for a few more moments as the sweet, musky scent of Adler’s perfume still lingered in the air. He realized, disgusted with himself, that it had become familiar to him, had become commonplace, like that Muggle even deserved to be around him that much. Taking in a few deep breaths didn’t even help, as it only filled his nose with more of her smell, and he huffed in annoyance before deciding to leave the room, knowing that he had to clear his head before working with that accursed cabinet that stood over him almost mockingly as he turned and exited the room. 

Knowing that going to his dormitory would only enrage him more, Draco decided to wander through the halls, seeing if there were any first years that he could scare or pick on. The corridors were filling as more and more students returned, and as he walked, he noticed that Adler was standing with her vexing little group of friends, Potter’s and the Weasley girl’s faces guilty as they regarded her. 

It piqued his interest, and he needed to witness some more of her pain after two long weeks without it, so he lingered far enough away that they wouldn’t notice him over the rush of the crowd, but close enough that he could still hear them. 

Could hear them, as Adler yelled at Harry for lying to her about how he felt, about lying to her about how he felt for that blood traitor Weasley girl. _About...oh._ So Harry and her had...

Draco felt a weird knot in his stomach as he heard the conversation go on, and an odd prick of jealousy ran through him at the thought of Harry being with her like _that_. No, not jealously. It had to be disgust. It could not be jealousy. 

_Adler is far prettier than that blood traitor. What a git._

Would be, he corrected himself, feeling frustrated once more. _Would be_. But wasn’t, because her blood was even dirtier than the Weasleys. He felt a small smirk paint his lips as he saw her stand up for herself against the idiot Potter, the pained look on his face far too good to miss, and Draco knew he would be reveling in that for a while to come. The shadows of the corridor corner that he slid into did an excellent job of concealing him, even as Adler spun and left the group, Potter and Weasley’s mouths still agape with regret, as they should be. 

Draco had to admit, as he walked away, that he was surprised that perfect little Potter would do something so nasty, but it gave him another thing to hurt Adler with, so he was grateful Potter had decided to be such a dickhead. He wondered to himself whether Adler was crying or not, because he hadn’t ever seen her _really_ cry, and a sick part of him wanted to. 

And he wondered to himself after that thought why he had been thinking about that vile girl so much today. Draco asked himself that all the way to the second-floor bathroom that was tucked away in a far corner of the castle, where he regarded his own pale, drawn face in the mirror, the entire room empty except for him. He felt that sense of horrific pity again as he thought about Adler’s black eye, about the way that Potter had fucked her over, and he couldn’t help the blind anger at his own self as he lifted his fist and shattered the fragile glass with a hard punch, his voice shouting with rage. The silver glass fractured around his hand, the sharp pieces slicing open the thin skin of his knuckles and hand as he stood there, panting, frustrated, angry, confused. 

He made a vow to himself, then and there, that he would stop whatever this sick, twisted dance was that he had going on with Adler. Draco thoroughly enjoyed hurting her, making her angry and take it out on him, relished in the fury that sparked in her warm eyes and loved the way she shook when she shouted at him, but he realized that it was in danger of turning into something more now, something that he couldn’t even fucking risk _thinking_ about because he didn’t have a terrible inclination to be subjected to the full extent of his father’s horrific wrath. Draco looked at himself, disgusted with the man that stared back in the cracked mirror, his eyes too steely, his face too bony, his stature too relaxed for the amount of stress and confusion that he had been going through the past few months, though he had to commend himself for looking like he was doing just fine when he was splintering apart, just like the mirror. He hated that his heart faintly contracted at the thought of not being the cause of Adler’s agony anymore, and knew that he was so stupidly deep in shit that he had no inclination to get out of. 

His pale hand was streaked with bright ribbons of crimson, and he didn’t even bother to clean it or the glass up as he left, needing the stinging pain to ground him and make him focus on the task that he had been given to complete before the end of the year. Drips of red liquid followed his exit, his hand burning horribly the second the chilly winter air met his open skin, and he fell wholly into the consuming pain and numbness that had become his closest companion.


	17. Loss and Oddity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -no content warnings-  
> thank you for all your comments and everything! i love this story far more than i thought i would, so i'm glad you guys do to! i've been playing around with starting another story, either after this is finished or after a few more chapters and just write them at the same time. if you guys have any pairings/ story lines you'd like to see for that, let me know! enjoy<3

The first Monday of second term was cold, gray, and bleak, which, incidentally enough, was perfectly fitting for the mood that I was in. I woke up with the left side of my face aching, and there was a hollowness in my chest that I knew was a result of Harry and Ginny’s actions from yesterday. As I lay still in my bed, listening to the soft rustle of fabric as Cho and Luna started to get ready for the day, I cursed myself for even letting myself consider the idea that Harry would actually want to be with me. I, apparently, had lost all my sense as soon as a boy showed interest in me, and though I was angry at Harry, and rightfully so, I was almost more angry with myself for the way that I let him in and how I was vulnerable with him.

I tried to tell myself it was okay that I had started to have feelings for someone for the first time in my life, but the small, obnoxious voice in my head whispered that it wasn’t and that I should’ve known that he would pull away as soon as I wanted to commit. It was this awful, constant struggle between allowing myself to be vulnerable with someone and wanting to shut anyone out who got too close, and at this point, I genuinely didn’t know which I wanted to do more. 

The bleak winter sun that peaked through the window next to my bed told me that I’d better get moving if I wanted breakfast, so I hauled my tired, heavy body out of my warm bed and began slipping on warmer day clothes, replacing my pajama top and bottom with my heavier school uniform, taking only a few moments to adjust my hair into a bun before heading down to the Great Hall. As I went to exit the dormitory, Cho caught up to me and asked if she could walk down with me. I only nodded in reply, and we made our way out of the Ravenclaw tower and down toward the hall.

There were a few moments of silence before Cho’s light voice began speaking. “Elaine, your eye…” 

Her question was unsaid, but I knew what it was. “Yeah. It’s fine, though. I don’t live there anymore.”

“What?” She exclaimed. “What do you mean?”

I shrugged. “My father kicked me out, but it’s really okay. I honestly don’t feel like talking about it right now, if that’s okay.”

She pursed her lips, but nodded. “And about Harry...:”

I stopped her. “Again, Cho, I really don’t have the energy right now. Can we just talk about it later?” I knew my voice sounded tired, almost as exhausted as I felt. 

Again, she looked like she was going to protest, but thankfully thought better of it, and we continued our comfortable silence during the last remains of the walk to breakfast. Once we reached the Great Hall, I spotted Harry and Ginny sitting with Ron and Cedric, and Cho started to walk towards them, but froze after seeing the pained look on my face that I tried to hide. 

“You know what? Let’s sit somewhere else this morning. I don’t really feel like talking,” Cho offered, though I saw her cast a longing look at her boyfriend, and I shook my head. 

“It’s alright. I wanted to study before Transfiguration anyways, so I’ll probably just grab a quick bite to eat and then head up to the library,” I lied. I did appreciate her offer, but the situation was messy enough without anyone taking sides or choosing me or Harry over the other. 

Cho hesitated. “Alright, but let’s eat dinner together then. I want to catch up about break!” She said, offering me a warm smile. 

I smiled back as she kissed my cheek and sauntered off to the little group sitting near one of the raging fires lining the walls, my heart twisting as I saw Harry brush a stray piece of hair off Ginny’s freckled cheek.

_God, this was going to be hard._

I figured since I told Cho I was going to study, I might as well, so after I ate a few bites of oatmeal and downed an apple, I wandered up to the library, finding a quiet corner to sit at until my classes began for the day. It was a futile effort, as my brain insisted on thinking about anything but the ancient book open in front of me, but I enjoyed the bit of silence before the day and before the unavoidable barrage of questions I knew I would receive about my eye. My shoulders slumped as I thought about the strenuous effort of explaining to every single person the cause of the bruise, and I sighed heavily, resting my head in my hands and staying like that until it was time to make my way to Transfiguration. 

I found my usual spot by the unpleasant Slytherin, and did my best to pay attention to McGonagall, but I found it difficult to do so when I kept catching Ron throwing pitiful glances my way that made my stomach stink. I was so distracted that I could barely get the quill in front of me to turn green, much less turn into a toad, and though McGonagall hadn’t said anything to me, I noticed her eyeing me throughout the course of the class. 

Afterwards, I stood up and made my way out of the class, my feet nearly dragging with how heavy and down I felt. 

“Wait up!” I heard Ron’s newly deep voice call out to me. 

I sighed internally, but paused, moving to the side of the corridor. 

“Elaine, listen, about Ginny and Harry. We really did think he had told you and we would’ve never supported it if he hadn’t--or if we knew he hadn’t,” He explained, his clothing slightly rumpled and his tie askew as always. 

His words sent sadness shooting through me, but I tried to brush it off. “I know, and I’m not upset at you or Hermione or really anyone but the two of them. I’ll be okay, you know me,” I tried to reassure him, though it was obvious that I was trying to reassure myself as well. 

Ron’s brows furrowed as he looked at me. “It was a really dickheaded thing for him to do and believe me, Hermione yelled at the both of them for a while.” He shuddered. “It even scared me, and she’s my girlfriend!” 

I didn’t doubt it. Hermione had a fire in her that came out at surprising times, and it warmed me to know she had defended me. “It’s just the way things go, y’know? I guess I shouldn’t be so upset. Harry and I were together, but we never talked about it in definite terms, so I guess he wasn’t completely out of place by getting with Ginny.” The words hurt even as I said them.

Ron awkwardly patted my shoulder, making me swallow a soft laugh at his attempt to comfort me. “Well, believe me, Ginny will probably get an earful from Mum about it too. You know how much she loves you,” Ron responded, making me smile. “And listen, Cho told us about what happened.” His eyes flickered quickly to my temple and I shoved down the urge to turn that side of my face away from his gaze. “I sent an owl to Mum before McGonagall’s class, even though I’m sure she’ll say yes, but you’re staying at the Burrow until you’re graduated.”

Gratitude swept through me at his offer, but I didn’t want to be a burden, and I knew I couldn’t repay the Weasleys. “I wouldn’t want to intrude. I’ll find some to stay until I save up enough to get my own place, and I don’t have any way to pay you for letting me---” 

Ron stopped me with a look that said, _Shut it, will you?_ “It’s not up for debate, ‘Lainy. Once Mum and Dad hear about it, they wouldn’t let you stay anywhere else, anyways,” He said decidedly, and I grinned at him. 

“You have no idea what it means to me, Ron, really,” I said, giving him a tight hug. 

His freckled cheeks flared red, and he waved his hand nonchalantly. “It’s nothing, really. Any of you have always been welcome there.” 

And I did know it, but I was so thankful for the offer that I promised myself I’d do as many chores or cook as many meals as I could while staying there to start repaying the Weasleys for the kindness they had always shown me. Ron offered me a quick goodbye, and we both went to our respective classes, a familial love heating my chest as I walked, realizing how lucky I was to be friends with the Weasleys and how much of a replacement for my own horrible parents Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had been ever since I had become friends with Ron. 

Defense Against the Dark Arts was wildly intriguing, as always, even with Snape’s nasally voice droning through the lesson. He was spouting so much information that I didn’t notice Malfoy’s uncharacteristic quiet towards me, my only focus on scratching down as much of the lesson as I could onto my yellowed parchment. It was only when I entered into Potions at the end of my day that I realized how void of antagonism my day had been. My mind had been entirely caught up in throwing myself so entirely into my school work that day that I didn’t have to notice the lingering stares at my face or the sorrow that had lodged itself snugly into my stomach. Seeing Harry and Hermione chatting softly once I walked in, however, immediately brought my new reality crashing into me, and I did my best to avoid Harry’s eyes that I could feel were watching me as I looked anywhere but him. 

Malfoy waltzed in, a few minutes late as always, his normal nonchalant and arrogant air returned after his odd outburst yesterday afternoon. As Professor Slughorn began talking about the different kinds of emotion potions we would be studying, I noticed the garrish, tender red cuts littering Malfoy’s veined hand as he got out his quill and parchment. It wasn’t wrapped, and it looked as though it hadn’t been given any care at all. I knew the cuts had to be fresh, because neither of his hands had been marred during our encounter yesterday, and I wondered hesitantly if they were a result of our conversation. 

I found my eyes glued to tracing the injuries, the inflamed skin looking very sore and bothered. Malfoy caught me staring, and instead of reprimanding me or getting angry, he only snatched his hand off the table and nestled it in his robes so that I could no longer see the damage that had been done to it. I was shocked by his lack of an outburst, thinking to myself that I must be in some odd dimension where Malfoy merely ignored me instead of attacking me. 

His strange behavior continued even as we had to work together to make our first potion of the new year, his eyes never even meeting mine as we stirred and poured and chopped our ingredients. It was bothering me, like a little thorn in my side, that he wasn’t even giving me the time of day after his incessant demands to know what caused the mark on my face the day before. Maybe it was because I missed the normalcy of my friendships that had been blown to dust with Harry and Ginny’s new relationship, or maybe I was just feeling particularly prone to bothering him that day, but I began doing things that I knew annoyed him, like misreading the instructions. My purposeful mistake of letting the liquid simmer too low while he went to grab something from the storeroom only elicited a small huff out of him, and he went to correct my action without even saying anything. I felt a strange frustration rise in me, and I feigned reaching for an white powder to knock over his nearly full bottle of jet-black ink, making it slither over his book and stain it with a midnight shadow. 

Even this didn’t do anything to make him acknowledge me, and I felt as though I was invisible, or not truly there, and it made me more upset than it should have. I should have been grateful for his lack of interaction, especially after yesterday, but I, for some unknown reason, longed to have him snap at me like he usually did, because if this was his new way of bothering me, it sure was working well. I watched, confused, as he merely muttered a cleaning spell to suck the ink off the pages of his book and returned his attention back to the concoction. 

I felt like a petulant child with the way I longed for even a bit of his rageful attention, growing even more frustrated not only at Malfoy, but with myself for being so stupid and immature. Between doing my best to put on an air of uncaring to prove to Harry that what he did hadn’t hurt me all that much, and being horribly distracted because of Malfoy’s wounded hand, I found myself making mistakes that I normally didn’t, mistakes that were, by all accounts, simply terribly stupid of me. 

The worst of which was when I reached over blindly to grab my quill and stuck my hand into the flame heating the cauldron instead, making me draw back my hand quickly with a pathetic yelp of pain. My fingers instantly reddened, the pain from the fire still licking up my fingers into my hand even as I shook it to make the chilled dungeon air stuck the heat out of my injured skin. The class looked towards my table at my pained shout, making me flush with embarrassment, but even at this, Malfoy still did not spare me so much as a quick glance, his steel eyes fixed on his book in front of him. 

I felt my previous simmering temper boil into bitter indignation at myself for being so idiotic, at Harry for making me so distracted, and, for a reason that I could not figure out no matter how long I wondered that night, at Malfoy for his utter indifference to me. Maybe it was because it had seemed like he had so clearly, so _oddly_ , cared about me for whatever reason last night, or maybe it was because he was the last remaining hope of normality that I had after my encounter with Harry last night and he was ripping even that away from me. This new cold wall of emotion, I found, was far worse than suffering the heat of his rage, because now I really had no idea where my place was at Hogwarts. 

It certainly wasn’t as Harry’s best friend, not anymore, and it wasn’t as the unbothered student from an unknown background; if it wasn’t those, and if it wasn’t as Malfoy’s biggest target, where was it? 

I felt tears of pure and unbridled resentment bite at my eyes and begin to burn my nose. It seemed as though the world found it funny to throw curve after curve at me sometimes, not giving me a moment to recover before the next was tossed my way. I vaguely noticed Professor Slughorn come up to me and suggest I go to the hospital wing, telling Malfoy he might as well take me since it seemed that our potion wasn’t really coming along very well. Malfoy tried to argue, but Slughorn had made up his mind, and being the stubborn old man that he was, there was no use protesting. 

The two of us stalked out of the classroom, the aching in my hand subsiding minimally as the cool corridor air wrapped around it, and as we left the dungeon, I muttered, “You can go back to your common room or something. I don’t need you to walk me to the hospital wing.”

Malfoy didn’t respond, of course; he simply continued walking alongside me, just out of arm's reach as I cradled my injured hand to my chest.

“Didn’t you hear me? I don’t need you to escort me,” I repeated, incredulous that he would ignore even a direct conversation. 

We walked a few more steps, our shoes clacking on the stone, before he said, “You shouldn’t need someone to tell you not to stick your hand in a fire either, but apparently you still do.”

I didn’t even look at his surely smug face as I replied. “I was distracted. I know that you don’t care, so I’d rather not have to suffer your company for any longer than I have to.” 

Malfoy didn’t say anything to that, and I huffed, annoyed that I had to endure the embarrassment of being escorted to Madam Pomfrey’s for such a ridiculous and avoidable injury. The throbbing in my hand still pulsed terribly, and a shiny blister was beginning to bubble up along the length of my forefinger, making it painful to move. The silence that enshrouded us as we walked was nearly suffocating. For me, at least. 

Malfoy looked like he hadn’t a care in the world, and that made me want to give his stupidly marble-and-ice face a bruise matching mine. Some deep, hidden part of me was aching for him to even recognize my presence beyond a few, clipped words, and I was doing my best to shove it down, but it was a monster on a mission, clawing its way up into my stomach and chest to sit heavily and shove its want up my throat. That distant part of me was longing for our normal banter, even if it ended with me wanting to cry or hit him; I just wanted something _normal_ to cling on to. 

We arrived just outside the hospital wing doors, alone except for the soft murmurs of a few people on the other side of the oak doors. I paused, just for a moment, to see if Malfoy would say anything, and to my surprise, he did. 

“We have to make up that potion because of your idiocy,” He deadpanned, and though he feigned causality, there was something more tense under it. Shoving his hands in his robe pockets, he finally looked at me with those disconcertingly piercing eyes of his that made a shudder run down my spine. 

“I know,” was all I seemed to be able to say under his intense gaze.

Malfoy scoffed. “Thank you in advance for wasting some of my free time. I’ll meet you in Slughorn’s class tomorrow night after dinner, and you’d better clear up whatever shit you’re going through with Potter so that you can actually focus this time,” He said icily, as if he was angry at me for something, though besides my antics in Potions that hadn’t seemed to bother him, I couldn’t think of what he could possibly be upset about. 

My chest tightened at his mention of Harry, and for what seemed like the millionth time just this year, I had no clue how he was so knowledgeable about the intricacies of my personal life. “You need to get your big, fat nose out of my business, Malfoy,” I snapped. “I was only so distracted because your hand looks like you ran it through a woodchipper and you didn’t even bother to clean it or bandage it.” 

His eyes squinted ever so slightly, and it looked like Malfoy hesitated for a moment before he retorted, “Don’t pretend like you give a damn about my hand. You’d probably just as soon cut it up yourself.” His words were short, as if he was restraining himself, and I found myself more confused, rather than satisfied, as our conversation lengthened. 

“So it’s fine for you to pester and hurt me until I tell you what happened to me, but the moment I point out that your hand is probably fucking _infected_ ,” I said, gesturing to his robe pockets where his hands still sat.“You’re a massive asshole about it. Got it, you dick.” 

Malfoy’s expression was passive at best, but that odd glint had returned to his eye, only for a moment. It wasn’t quick enough that I missed it though, and I found myself absently wondering when I had become so in tune with his minute expressions that I could tell when the smallest change occurred. Rolling my eyes, I turned away from him to shove open the doors and see Madam Pomfrey about my hand, and I was half-expecting him to grab my arm or tell me to stop or at least yell at me, but he did nothing, so the only thing I could do was continue my course and let the doors slam behind me, leaving the air between us that was so thick with discomfort and confusion to fester, lingering around me even as I walked to Madam Pomfrey and showed her my hand, making her tut with worry. 

I struggled to focus as she gave me a tonic and wrapped gauze individually around my first three fingers and around the upper half of my palm, telling me to mind where I put it next time and to keep it clean unless I wanted to end up back here to see her again. Nodding half-heartedly, she gave me the go-ahead to leave, and I stood up off the crisp, linen sheets that lined the bed she had sat me at, noting that class was definitely over by now, if the rush of the students to the Great Hall indicated anything. 

Groaning as I remembered I had to return to the dungeon to grab my bag, therefore lengthening the time that remained before I could finally sit down and fill my growling stomach, I pushed against the flow of students, bumping into a few shoulders and wincing as my hand got hit by passing bags or arms. The trek to the dungeon took far longer than I hoped, and my mood soured even more as I saw Harry waiting by my abandoned bag. 

His face was hesitant as he saw me open the door and enter into the otherwise empty classroom, the rest of the people having left minutes earlier. 

“I--I figured you’d have to come back for your bag, and-- and I wanted to talk to you and I didn’t know when else you’d give me the time,” Harry began, looking sheepish. 

_Rightfully so._

“Listen, Potter,” and he flinched as I addressed him so coldly by his surname, “It’s been a long, shitty day, and I feel terrible and I don’t want to hear your half-assed excuses, so let’s just agree to stay away from each other and we can be done with it,” I said shortly, reaching down to grab my bag from where it rested against the leg of the table. 

“What, we’re just not going to be friends anymore? Elaine, you’ve been my best friend for six years. How can you just want to throw it away like that?” Harry asked, stepping in front of my bag and making me huff with irritation. 

I stood back up, looking him dead in those stupid green eyes of his. “Yes, Potter, we’re not. Because you decided, the moment that you got with Ginny, that I was no longer a priority of yours. And that’s fine, that’s your choice, but I don’t have to sit around and have our group throw me sad, pitiful glances every time we’re near each other. I had hoped that you respected me more, not just as a potential girlfriend, but as your _best friend_ , to tell me the truth instead of surprising me with it after I had just gotten kicked out of my own damn house,” I spat back, barely bothering to pull my punches, because as sick and awful as it was, I almost wanted him to feel the same hurt that I had when I had seen him and Ginny together. Harry flinched as I reminded him of my most recent fatherly misfortune, but continued.

“That isn’t fair! Just because I fell in love with---”

“Fell in love?” I laughed incredulously. “God, so I really was just a phase for you.” I ran my undamaged hand through my wild locks, trying to reign in my emotions. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

“It wasn’t a phase! Merlin’s beard, for a Ravenclaw, you sure are thick,” Harry retorted, and the moment the words left his mouth, I knew he regretted them because I saw the shame begin to swim in his eyes. 

“Nice, Potter. Fantastic fucking friend you turned out to be. Of course I was a phase; how could I think otherwise? I was just a girl to fool around with and mess with until you found something better, and believe me, I get that that is how most people see me, but I thought you, of all people, saw me differently,” I said, going to grab my bag again, but once again Harry blocked my path. “Get out of my way, Potter.” 

“Or what, Elaine? I’m trying to tell you that I’m sorry, that I shouldn’t have done it, but you’re so fucking caught up in drowning in self pity that you refuse to hear what I’m saying!” Harry exclaimed, throwing up his arms in frustration. 

“Self pity? God, that is rich coming from you, Potter. All we ever hear about from you is how terrible your aunt and uncle are and how hard it is to be the Chosen One, to be every witch and wizard’s damn hero. So don’t tell me that I wallow, because you are the goddamn champion of self pity.” I was nearly yelling at this point, my emotions heightened because Harry truly had been my best friend and as much as I acted that I was fine moving on from him, I _wasn’t_ , because he had been there for me through all the terribleness and nightmares and awfulness that my family had put me through. 

“Could you be any more jealous of me? Jesus, Elaine, I thought you were better than this,” Harry sighed, rubbing his face as if he were tired. 

I scoffed. “Jealous? Of you? In your dreams, Potter. And I thought you were better than a cheater and a liar, so I guess we were both wrong,” I said. 

“I’m not a cheater,” Harry replied angrily. “We were never ever really together!”

And there it was. The thing that I hadn’t let myself think about until now; the thing that shattered the rest of my already-crumbling heart into pieces so small it was like I could feel it tearing apart. The stark, cold fact that Harry really hadn’t seen what went on between us as anything more than...than friends with benefits.

I felt the hot burn of tears prick my throat, and I swallowed hard to force them down. “At least I know that that’s how you saw it now. At least I didn’t make a joke of myself by telling you I was ready to be your girlfriend, even though you were the one who initiated everything!” And that word, _girlfriend_ , seemed so stupid, so _childish_ , as I faced him, his cheeks flush with anger and his eyes bright and bitter. 

“Like I believe that. Did you ever think part of the reason I got with Ginny is because she actually showed she wanted to be with me? That she wasn’t scared to be with someone she knew would never hurt her?” Harry questioned me, making me clench my jaw. 

And I noticed he didn’t address my accusation of him starting our relationship, which made a small sense of pride burst in me at the fact that I had, at least, won that point.

“Well, I guess Ginny is different. And yes, I did think at one point that you would never hurt me, because I thought you loved me, even as a friend. But I can see how horribly wrong I was,” I said, holding his gaze as I spoke, not wanting to show him that any of this was hurting me, even though I felt like I was splintering into little bits of nothingness. 

“You know I love you. Don’t pull that shit with me, Elaine. I’m the only person who knows you as well as I do, and I still love you with my entire heart. I have since our very first year here,” Harry said, a bit softer, as he leaned back to sit on the edge of the table. 

“You _still_ love me? You think that the fact that you love me despite my shitty background is something you should be rewarded for?” I laughed bitterly, finally grabbing my bag and hefting it onto my shoulder. “Maybe I did dodge a bullet with you. I’m sure it’s much easier to love a girl like Ginny than a girl like me.” 

It was an unfair shot, and I knew that, but I was so sick of him talking and all I wanted to do was eat and sleep the rest of the day away. Before I could leave, Harry clamped a hand around my wrist, making me freeze.

“You know what? Fine,” Harry spat. “You tell yourself, like you always do, that you have it the hardest and that because of your dad, no one can love you or stick around. Did you ever think, even for a second, that it isn’t your dad, but you that pushes people away? You’re so scared of getting hurt, so scared of anyone _really_ seeing you, that you’d rather live your life in sorrow and pity and bitterness instead of opening up and realizing how much about you there is to love. But fine, you don’t want to listen to me? Whatever.”

I looked him dead in the eyes, the boy who had been my best friend since eleven, the boy who had always been there for me and seen me as more than just a charity case, and I growled, “You ever touch me again, _Potter_ , and I’ll curse you so hard you’ll have to go back to your stupid cupboard under the stairs.” 

Hurt swirled through Harry’s eyes and I stepped back, stopping once again as I heard Malfoy’s snarky voice whistle, slow and showy. “I didn’t know that I’d be getting a show when I went to get my book.” 

I turned and shot him an icy, hateful glare. “Fuck off, Malfoy. I don’t need this right now.” 

“Yeah, piss off, dickhead,” Harry chimed in, still sitting on the edge of our table. 

“How could I miss such a fantastically horrible conversation between Dumbledore’s golden boy and everyone’s favorite Mudblood punching bag?” Malfoy asked rhetorically, waltzing towards us with his signature elegant gait to grab his bag that was on the other side of the table. “I’ll admit, Potter. I didn’t know you had it in you. Maybe the Sorting Hat should’ve put you in Slytherin after all. Here I was thinking you were always too nice for that, but seems like the Hat was on to something.” 

And, being the stupid prick that he was, Malfoy didn’t even look at me as he leaned down and picked up his bag, his dark robes whirling around him like a stormcloud. He didn’t even look at Harry as he clenched his fist at his nickname for me, or as Harry snarled, “You ever call her that again, and I’ll--”

“You’ll what, Potter?” Malfoy drawled lazily, as if Harry’s threat was as dangerous as a buzzing fly. “You don’t have the guts to do anything to me, and even if you did, you wouldn’t live to tell any of your moronic friends.” 

Somehow, Malfoy had gotten so impeccably good at those little life-threatening insults that it took the both of us a few moments to register what he had said. 

“Get. Out,” Harry demanded again, his form still tense with anger at the blond who’s tall, lithe body was leaned up against the table next to ours. 

“Merlin’s beard, Potter, you’re so fucking dull it makes me wonder how you managed to score both Adler and the Weasley girl, though I’m sure Adler will take any bit of affection she can get, being the needy, whiny little shit she is.”

It was if I wasn’t even present, and I couldn’t handle it anymore. My day had been awful and long and it felt like I was living in some sort of limbo where everything was just a bit off, but not enough for anyone else to notice but me. “You know what? We’re done here,” I stated. “I’d rather jump off the Astronomy Tower than be around you two assholes anymore.” 

It hurt, honestly hurt, to lump the warm boy who reminded me of summer sunshine and the steely boy who’s alabaster skin and frozen eyes were enough to send shivers down my spine together, but after what Harry did, it almost felt like he deserved it. 

Almost. 

The pair sat there looking at me as I declared my exit, but I found it hard to stop staring at the juxtaposition of the two; Harry, so light and fluttery and messily loveable, and Malfoy, harsher than the deepest winter, a marble statue given the tiniest bits of life, and though I had always found myself instinctively drawn to Harry, this time my eyes had a hard time leaving the stoic form of Draco Malfoy, and my heart stuttered as I realized that Harry’s welcoming, warm presence no longer grabbed me as it had before. 

Malfoy’s blond eyebrow quirked up, and I stopped my study of the two boys, turning quickly enough that hopefully neither of them saw the embarrassment that kissed my cheeks. I left the two of them there, rushing out of the damp dungeon, feeling as though the air was fighting against my lungs as I breathed. It felt nearly impossible to keep myself together as I climbed stair after stair, the heavy, crushing weight of losing Harry threatening to splinter me into entire disrepair. Taking in a few deep breaths as I answered the riddle to the Ravenclaw tower, I stepped inside and finally put away my school things and tied back my wild hair with an elastic, before immediately turning around to get some food into my starving stomach. 

It was both a gift and a trial that my day had been so full that I had barely been able to stop, to think, and I knew that I would eventually have to confront my feelings of loss about Harry, but everything was just so incredibly confusing and rather terrible that that was the last thing I wanted to do in this particular moment. Dinner was uneventful, though sitting with Luna offered easy conversation, most of which was her talking absentmindedly about any number of odd creatures and inventions. I envied the way that she floated through life, and I knew she had her own set of problems, but it seemed as though she always was so _sure_ about everything, and I longed for that comfort as I ate a warm, hearty soup and my fair share of rolls. 

It was still early, the sun having sunk behind the rolling green hills surrounding Hogwarts barely an hour earlier, but my body craved rest, so I decided to call it a day and got ready for bed, my warm pajamas cocooning my body with much-needed comfort. My dormitory was empty due to how young the night was, but it was a welcome reprieve from the stressful events of the day that seemed to plague me even after they were done. 

My thoughts drifted to Harry first, that pang of sadness hitting me as I recalled our conversation, wincing at the words he had thrown at me. 

_He wasn’t wrong, though. Not entirely._

I hated that he wasn’t. I hated that he had been able to read me so clearly, and I hated that every bit of his words had rung true with a burst of embarrassed bitterness in me because I knew that he was right. My mind changed course, from Harry and I’s conversation to when Malfoy walked in, surrounded with all his usual irksome swagger and poise. His actions had changed though, and fairly dramatically, because his avoidance of me was something incredibly new and his supposed complete disregard for his injury was not normal. His hand had been gruesomely torn up, and yet he hadn’t bothered to do a thing about it, which surprised me, because he normally wasn’t so nonchalant about himself. I though I even saw, as he walked in, him clenching that hand, which surely hurt, though he had stopped so quickly upon his entry that I might've imagined it. 

That wasn’t the only thing that pushed him to the forefront of my mind; no, it was the way that he had almost entirely ignored me today, and the way that I almost _missed_ our normal interactions made me despise myself even further than anything else that day had. How stupid must I be to _want_ him to attack me? How lonely and afraid and utterly displaced must I be to long for his presence when it caused me nothing but agony?

And how horrifically, terribly, completely idiotic and self-sabotaging must I be to disregard my own safety and sanity to look forward to spending tomorrow evening with him?


	18. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this has been a ridiculously slow burn, but this chapter is where things get ~exciting~, or start to anyways! enjoy <3 thank u as always for the comments and kudos, it really means so much that other people like this story

I woke up before the sun, the misty winter morning still trying to pull away from the darkness of night. I had fallen asleep far earlier than I normally did, and because of this, I had at least two hours before classes started. The headache that was already beginning to pound at my skull urged me from bed in search of some water, and as quietly as I could, I slipped on a olive sweater discarded on the chair by my bed and my shoes and snuck out of the dormitory, trying not to wake the four other still-sleeping girls that shared the room. The common room was frigid, the fire having died down long ago, and I wrapped my arms around myself in an attempt to preserve some of the warmth from my bed. 

I didn’t pass a single living soul on my trek to the nearest restroom, the stone echoing each of my footsteps and amplifying them as I trudged through the corridors. As I entered the bathroom, I bumped into Pansy Parkinson, a girl that I was rather unfortunately familiar with, though I hadn’t seen her much at all this year, which was something I was very grateful for. 

Her black hair seemed to suck the dim light out of the room and her dull brown eyes were fiery with disdain as she regarded me. 

“Watch where you’re going, Mudblood,” She snarled. 

_God, it is too early for this._

I was exhausted, sleep still weighing down my bones, so I merely mumbled a fake apology and tried to move around her, but she stepped to the side and blocked my path. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

I sighed audibly, wrapping the sleeves of my sweater around my icy hands. “Going to the bathroom, Parkinson. I think that’s pretty clear.” 

Her eyes narrowed, her thin lips twisting with annoyance. “No shit, Muggle. Don’t be a bitch.”

“You’re the one blocking my way,” I said, slightly exasperated. 

“I’m not done talking to you,” Pansy said, crossing her arms. 

“Well, get on with it then. I have to pee,” I deadpanned, so ridiculously annoyed that I had to deal with this so early in the morning. 

“I’d fucking watch your tongue if I were you, Adler. You’re already on my last fucking nerve after all the shit you’ve been pulling with Draco,” Pansy snapped, pushing out one hip and placing her weight on one leg.

“What?” I asked, bewildered. “What the hell are you on about?” 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You tried to get him alone just yesterday. I heard all about your little ‘accident’,” She said, putting air quotes around _accident_. “You’re not fucking smooth, and you’re stupider than shit if you think he’d ever even _think_ of a waste of space like you in that way.”

I couldn’t help it; I let out a loud laugh, one full of disbelief and genuine humor. This earned me a nasty look from Pansy, but I couldn’t care less. “My god, Parkinson, I knew you were thick, but I didn’t think you were this idiotic. I burnt the shit out of my hand and Slughorn asked Malfoy to walk me up, not me,” I said, the remains of laughter still wracking my frame. “Thank you, though. I needed a good laugh.”

Pansy’s weasel-like face twisted with rage, and before I could open my mouth again, her open palm collided with my face with a rather sharp sound. The blow wasn’t really that hard, but the surprise of it made it hurt more than it would’ve otherwise. 

“What the fuck?” I exclaimed, touching my cheek gently. 

“Like I said, watch your mouth, Muggle. I know how girls work, and I’d bet anything that you did that on purpose, just to get him to worry about you,” Pansy snarled, and I rolled my eyes. 

“Seriously, Parkinson, you’re daft. I’m not that desperate or that stupid,” I responded, the stinging in my cheek barely subsiding. “Just because you have to go through that to get with a guy doesn’t mean everyone has to.”

Pansy let out a barking laugh. “I’ll have you know, Draco and I are together, so I wouldn’t be so fucking sure about that.” 

Actual surprise coursed through me at her words. I had had no clue that the two of them were together, but they definitely deserved each other. 

“Good for you,” I retorted. “Malfoy’s never said anything about you, so I had no clue.” 

Just like I wanted, anger flashed in her eyes, even though it should’ve been obvious to her that since Malfoy had barely spared me two words since our first night back, he hadn’t really said much about anything. “I can’t believe that a Mudblood like you would fucking dare to talk to me like that. You better stay out of my way, and stay the hell away from Draco, or else.”

I snorted. “‘Or else’? You don’t scare me, Parkinson. Why would I be scared of someone who has Malfoy and Zabini fight all her fights for her?”

“Whoever hit you should’ve hit you harder, you piece of shit,” Pansy said, eyeing the slowly yellowing bruise gracing my face. 

Granted, her comment did sting, but I was oddly shocked that Malfoy hadn’t told her that it was my father, because he had forced me to tell him and I was sure that he would’ve told all his little cronies.

But he hadn’t. 

“Are you done?” I asked, eyeing the bathroom stall to my right. 

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Yes. I can’t stand to be around such a poor excuse for a witch. You better fucking stay away from Draco, and I mean that.”

She gave me one last piercing look before leaving, and I was finally able to use the restroom and get a drink. The fact that she and Malfoy were together...I shivered at the vile thought of those two in a relationship and an unpleasant feeling rippled through me at the fact that I might actually have to witness their disgusting displays of affection. I could genuinely say that that was the last thing I’d ever want to see, and as I sipped icy water down my parched throat, I contemplated whether I’d rather see them kiss or get hit by another Bludger.

_Bludger, absolutely._

My little exchange with Pansy left me in a bit of a sour mood, so I decided to talk a short walk around the grounds in the cool morning mist, the sun not quite peaking over the rolling hills and offering its meager warmth. The air was colder than I expected, but the chill cleared my mind of its sleepy fog, and I set off, my pace slow as the frostbitten grass crunched beneath my shoes. There were a few birds perching in the trees that I passed as I walked, their soft chirping one of the ambient sounds I had come to love during my time at Hogwarts. I sucked in a big gulp of the winter air, feeling like I could finally breathe after the events of the past few days, which had seemed like an entire lifetime. 

As I walked round the frozen lake, the sight of my tree that I visited every so often brought Harry to mind, and I sighed. I knew I wouldn’t be mad at him forever, and I knew eventually things would go back to normal; I just couldn’t shake the needling pain that entered my heart every time I thought about him. Ginny was probably a better match for him anyways, but it still stung that I had come second even in Harry’s life. 

The only sounds that filled my ears were the faint whisper of the wind in the grass and the chirps and twills of birds. At least, those _were_ the only sounds until I heard Pansy’s shrill voice cut through the frigid air. 

“She said you hadn’t mentioned me, Malfoy! What the hell?” Pansy demanded as she and Malfoy came into view as I rounded the final turn of the lake on my way back to the castle. I knew eavesdropping wasn’t terribly polite, but I had always had trouble keeping my nose out of other’s business, and the fact that I could finally get some dirt on Malfoy only sweetened the situation. 

Malfoy’s hands were shoved in his pocket, but his shoulders were noticeably tense, even from my position half-hidden behind a tree a good distance away. “Why would I? I don’t make it a habit to share personal information with her,” He replied casually. 

“But you haven’t even mentioned me once at all to anyone!” Her voice had taken on a high pitch that seemed to ring in my ears. 

She stepped closer to him, sliding her arms around his neck and mussing the back of his blond hair. “C’mon Draco, aren’t you happy to be with me?” 

“We’re not even technically together,” Malfoy said, though his hands remained in his pockets and it seemed as though he was nearly bored to death. 

Pansy smacked him on the shoulder. “You’re a prick! Of course we are. I told you last night I liked you, and you agreed with me! That means you and I are together, Draco. Don’t you like me?”

“Whatever you say,” He drawled lazily. 

Pansy grinned and pressed her lips to his in a kiss that was far too wet in my taste, and I had to hold back a retch at the awful sight. 

I figured I should get back to the castle before too long so that I could actually get ready for the day, but to do so, I would have to pass Malfoy and Pansy’s romantic little scene. Groaning to myself, I walked in their direction, Pansy’s lips still pressed to Malfoy’s and Malfoy’s hands were now resting lightly on her hips, though it seemed that it was more to keep her at bay than anything. 

My footsteps on the frozen grass were loud enough to break them apart once I got within a few feet of them, and Pansy whirled around, looking at me with hate in her dull eyes. 

“Merlin’s beard, Alder, can’t you fucking piss off?” She snapped at me.

I continued walking, not ready for an encounter with both of them so early. “Didn’t know you owned the damn lake, Parkinson,” I mumbled, though it was still loud enough that they both could hear me. 

Pansy huffed, folding her arms in front of her as she looked at Malfoy. “Aren’t you going to say something?” 

Malfoy shrugged, clearly checked out of the situation and probably still continuing his weird avoidance of me. As I walked out of earshot, the last thing I heard was Pansy nagging Malfoy that he hadn’t defended her, or some ridiculous thing like that, and I snorted to myself as I entered the castle. Those two definitely had met their match. 

\-----------------

The day was full of note-taking and professors assigning a disgusting amount of work, and strangely, I’d had trouble focusing because Pansy and Draco’s new relationship kept tugging at my mind, and so by the time classes had ended for the day, my brain was so full I had almost forgotten I had to meet Malfoy to make up the potion that we had missed the day before. Right as I had set down my bag, the thought popped into my head, and I barely had time to throw on a worn dark blue sweater and comfy black jeans and grab my bag again before heading right back out of Ravenclaw tower and down into the freezing dungeon, the classroom empty besides Malfoy lounging at our table, his feet kicked up and resting on the black table top. He looked like a painting; his skin porcelain and smooth, his silver eyes fluttering softly as he closed them, his long, dark eyelashes framing his eyes gently. Even Malfoy’s body was artistic with the way his long arms that rested behind his head strained against his shirt and his torso flexed with every breath, pulling at the buttons of his top. I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away. 

_Unbelievable_.

Upon my entrance, he swung his long, muscled legs off the table and sat up, and I prayed that my face wasn’t warm from embarrassment.“Took you long enough.”

I sighed, pulling my hair back into a twist and securing it with a clip I kept in my bag, hoping that the shock of him actually speaking to me didn’t register on my face.“Whatever, Malfoy. Let’s just get this over with.”

He rolled his eyes, going back to the storeroom to grab some ingredients as I lit the fire under the cauldron. Malfoy’s arms were full when he returned and he dumped everything unceremoniously onto the table.

“Surprised you can light a fire without burning the whole place down,” Malfoy remarked as we flipped open our books. 

“Oh, so you’re talking to me now? Piss off. It was an accident,” I defended, my bandaged hand pulsing at the mention of my fiery mishap the day before. 

He snorted, though he looked away from me quickly, finding the right page in his book, and began preparing the ingredients. 

“What potion are we making anyways?” I asked out loud as I scanned the page. The top read, in loopy writing, _Amortentia_. My brow furrowed as I read the name. I had never heard of the potion before, so I had no idea what our correct end result was meant to be. 

“What is it then,” Malfoy said, rather than asked, and I held back my sigh. 

“Um, it says Amortentia. You heard of it?” 

Malfoy’s hand slipped, knocking over the little glass vile that he had just put down. “You’re fucking joking,” He replied as he looked at his own book, as if to confirm what I had said. 

“What?” I asked, curious as to what it was that had caused such a reaction from Malfoy, and surprised that he was actually talking to me again. 

He ran his large hands through his blond hair, tousling it gently as he closed his eyes, clearly exasperated. “It’s a fucking _love potion_ ,” He said, his voice full of contempt.

“I don’t see the issue,” I responded. “I think it’s kind of interesting.”

“Of course you do. You girls are all the damn same,” Malfoy responded sarcastically. “Always obsessed with love and feelings. It’s so childish.”

“I would’ve thought you getting a girlfriend would’ve made you more of a romantic,” I replied, humor dancing lightly through my words. 

Malfoy shot a glare at me. “I don’t have a fucking girlfriend.”

I snorted. “Well, Pansy sure seems to think differently.”

Malfoy ran his hand through his hair again, clearly annoyed. “I wouldn’t put up with any of her shit if she weren’t a good fuck. She’s useless beyond that.”

His words were rather harsh, and disgust filled me, even though it was about a girl I didn’t care for. Shaking my head, I decided it might be best to just drop it and start working. I began doing the first task in the instructions and Malfoy rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt slightly, exposing his wrists and a few inches of veined forearm and began his own, our workspace now silent as we concentrated. His hand was still a fresh pink, though it seemed some of the shallower cuts were beginning to pull together, and the rest looked surprisingly okay. 

The steam of the potion boiling in our cauldron began rising in delicate spirals, and I smiled to myself once the instructions told me that meant things were going well. The air was warm from the heat of the fire, and the warmth was making a few small tendrils of Malfoy’s hair curl slightly on his forehead as we worked, his shirt pulling tight over his shoulders as he leaned forward, and as I returned to the table from the storeroom, I found myself scanning the lines of muscle, the gentle movement of his back as he cut the ingredient in front of him, before catching myself and turning away before he could see me, a feeling of shame and annoyance running through me. 

Soon after, a delicious scent began to hit my nose and I took a deep pull of it before sighing softly and contently. The smell sent a warmth shooting through me, and though I couldn’t place where I knew it from, it was incredibly familiar. Malfoy, on the other hand, wrinkled his nose slightly, pouring in the last ingredient and making the liquid shine with an opalescent film. 

“That smells amazing,” I commented as we watched it simmer. 

“What does it smell like?” He asked, standing up from looking in the cauldron and looking at me strangely, his long body leaning up against the table edge. 

I returned his look, a bit confused. “What? You mean you can’t smell it?”

Malfoy just stared at me and I rolled my eyes. “Since your large nose apparently doesn’t work anymore, it smells...peppery, warm. Woody, too. Like...I don’t know. Just good,” I said. 

He snorted. “ _Just good_.” 

“You’re the one who can’t fucking smell it,” I retorted, crossing my arms and looking up at him. 

“I can smell it. It smells differently to each person,” He said simply, turning back to his book. 

“Okay, idiot, then what does it smell like to you?” I asked. 

He shrugged, his gaze still on his work. 

“What does it smell like?” I persisted. 

“It doesn’t smell like anything to me,” Malfoy said, his voice tight. 

“You just said you could smell it,” I pointed out, his shoulders tensing at my words. “Just tell me. It’s not that hard.” 

“You’re fucking insufferable, you know that?” Malfoy snarled, slamming his book shut and finally looking back towards me.

“Because I asked you a question?” 

He shook his head in frustration. “No, you fucking idiot. Because you can’t fucking mind your own business.” 

“What? You asked me first!” I exclaimed. 

Malfoy took a step towards me, his white shirt slightly damp at the collar with sweat and his hands clenched tightly. “I don’t fucking care. It’s none of your business,” He growled, his voice a bit quieter because of the increased closeness. 

I huffed, tucking a stray bit of hair behind my ear, my silver earrings clinking as my hand brushed them. “What does it smell like?” I asked once more, and sure enough, that familiar rage erupted in his steely eyes and his jaw clenched. 

Malfoy encroached further into my space, walking around from the other side of our table to my side, making me back up until my back hit the sharp edge of the table, the cauldron wobbling slightly on its metal stand. He stopped when he was close enough that he could reach out and grab the edge of the table, his arms blocking me in as he looked at me with those wintery eyes of his. His mouth pressed into a thin line and his nose wrinkled once more as the smell hit him. 

“Vanilla,” He said shortly, his voice rough and low as he stared at me. “And something else.” 

I swallowed, unnerved at his closeness. I could smell that woody scent again, the cauldron still bubbling softly behind me. The dampened pieces of hair on his hairline curled gently, and it added a softness to him that I had never seen before. My heart was racing, surely due to being so near a person who was so consistently awful to me, but I found that I wasn’t actively looking for any chance to escape this time. 

“Vanilla?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. 

Malfoy nodded almost unnoticeably, and the air between us seemed to swell with tension; it felt like I could barely breathe, like if I even moved too quickly he would shock out of whatever state he was in now. He leaned in, slowly, _God_ , so slowly, his strong arms making the table creak as he moved. 

"Is that what Pansy smells like?" I questioned, ever the annoying person I was, but there was no heat to back my words. 

A breath away from him. If I even shifted slightly once he stopped moving, I would be pressed up against him, feeling his lean chest under his opaque white shirt. My brain swam with confusion and anxiety and something else, something unnamable, as he leaned forward, as his silver eyes that I now noticed were shot with ice-blue gazed into mine, as his breath mingled with mine, my gulps of air short and quick. 

"No," He whispered.

That warm, spiced scent seemed to be all I could smell, all I could think about as the heat of his body pressed into mine in the cold dungeon room, and I could’ve _sworn_ his eyes lingered on my...my mouth.

Could’ve sworn that the white-hot hatred that usually filled his eyes when they looked at me were now filled with something just as hot, but not as quite angry. 

Could’ve sworn that he leaned in, ever so slightly, as he spoke, his voice deep and warm like the smell that was crowding my nose. 

“Tell me to get away.”

“W-What?” I stammered, because clearly I was hallucinating; we had made the potion wrong somehow and the fumes were toxic or something and now I was dreaming, because that was the only explanation for what was happening. 

My hands had flown back to brace myself when he had herded me back against the table, and one of his hands that were resting there with mine wrapped around my wrist, his fingertips icicles on my flesh slowly, his skin igniting fire on mine. Malfoy pressed down, his lithe strength pining that hand to the black surface, and I had to swallow a gulp as he did so. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he spoke again, lower, clearer, making a distant heat spread minisculely in me. “Tell me. To get away," His voice was shaky even as he tried to make it strong, steady. It almost seemed like he needed me to tell him it, rather than it being a threat. I noticed a look of poorly hidden faint look of confusion and...desperation in his piercing eyes. 

I...didn’t want to.

I was frozen; I couldn’t form a coherent thought, much less actual words as I felt his breath on my skin as he spoke. I couldn’t even open my mouth to tell my years-long enemy to get away like I had dozens of times over the years. My heart was beating so fast I was sure that it was bound to burst out of my chest, especially once he moved his hand up to gently, so softly I had to look to see that it had actually occured, place his hand on my cheek. His touch was so unsure, so light that it was really merely his fingertips that were on the smooth skin of my face, brushing my cheek more softly, more tentatively than I’d ever seen him do anything.

His skin on mine was ice and fire at the same time, impossibly hot and addicting, and cold and unforgiving. I couldn’t tell how long the touch lasted; it seemed to go on forever and ever until it was all I could feel, and the next moment it was if he had barely brushed my cheek, like he had given me a whiff of something wildly addictive and immediately hid it from me. 

I knew I was pathetic for my knees buckling from such a poor excuse for contact, and I hated myself for it, but I longed, for just a fleeting second, for him to touch me again, even so minutely. He must’ve noticed the change in my demeanor, the way that I had stopped breathing, the way that I hadn’t even pulled away, even as he tilted his face down to be level with mine, as if he...

Must’ve, because the next thing I knew, Malfoy drew back from me like I was going to attack at any moment, the disconcerting stare replaced by stony calm, and once again his gaze was hotter than the sun with hatred and abhorrence, and I had to stop myself from shriveling under the withering look.

“You’re fucking pathetic, Alder,” Malfoy’s frigid voice spat. 

My heart plummeted into my stomach, _dear god, why had it been beating so fast in the first place,_ and I was still at a loss for words as he waited for a response, as he looked at me with bitter contempt. 

“Fucking. Pathetic,” He repeated, as though his words hadn’t sunk in how he wanted. He looked like he was an animal cornered by a wild beast as I met his eyes one last time, my chest filling with utter shame and horror at what I had just let Malfoy do, even though by any standards it had been nearly completely innocent. Flexing his hand as if to get rid of the feeling of my skin, he backed away from me, grabbed his things haphazardly and almost ran out of the classroom, his composure entirely frazzled, though he tried to disguise it beneath a sudden facade of complete indifference. 

With my lower back still pressed into the edge of the table, I took a moment to catch my breath, because it had truly felt as though I was choking, like the air was too filled with emotion to let me take some of it. Pushing myself off the table and turning back to our (thankfully) still correct-looking potion, I grabbed two empty vials, my motions mechanical as my brain still came down from the overload it had just gone through. I couldn’t even begin to describe how _much_ I was feeling, and my skin still sparked with the quick heat of Malfoy’s hand, of his _hand_ that had touched _me_. I labeled the bottles, my hand shaking slightly, and I gathered my things, noticing Malfoy’s book still lying on the table and decided to stuff it into my own bag. 

I noticed faintly that the woody scent still lingered in the air, even as I grabbed my things and left the classroom.


	19. Restless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> school has been a bit wild, and i broke one of my fingers bc i have idiot brain(rip) so apologies if chapters are a bit slow for a while. in good news, i posted the first chapter of my georgexreader fic, Sinners and Serpents! i think, like this one, that it was eventually be a bit nsfw, but it won't be nearly as dark as this fic! i really hope you guys enjoy <3

For the next week, the only thing running through my head was that deeply familiar scent, the sound of Malfoy’s voice so low in my ear, and the way that he had said Pansy didn’t smell of vanilla. The way that he said it, like he was admitting something shameful, made me wonder if the scent of the potion had any connection to its purposes. He had gone back to not talking to me again, which frustrated me to no end, though I couldn’t show it, especially in Snape and Slughorn’s classes, where I was in such close proximity to him that it was all I could do not to have every single thought be about him, and I was incredibly, painfully aware of any glance he might spare me, or any time he even showed he knew I was there. Our time alone was on my mind even at the end of the school week, and one day while sitting next to Ron and Hermione during lunch, I asked casually:

“So, does the smell of Amortentia have anything to do with it being a love potion?”

Ron and Hermione both looked at me from where they were sitting across the table, their hands intertwined even as they ate. It made my heart ache, but just for a moment. Luckily, Harry wasn’t there, or I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from quickly glancing at him, and that ache would’ve been much worse.

“That’s like, what it’s known for,” Ron replied, his mouth half stuffed with the warm lunch spread before us. “Shouldn’t you know that? I mean, didn’t you just make it, Ms. Slughorn’s Prodigy?” 

I rolled my eyes, sending Ron a fake-angry look, and he grinned back at me jokingly. I nodded and shrugged, pushing my food around my plate. “I was...distracted, I guess, when Slughorn went over it,” I said. 

_Distracted. Funny._

“Whatever it smells like is most attractive to the one smelling it,” Hermione explained. “Some people smell flowers, or clean laundry, or fresh cut grass, or even something like fireworks or smoke. It just really depends.”

“Oh,” I said, though try as I might, I couldn’t keep the interest out of my voice, or the terribly feigned look of indifference that was written across my features. 

“Why? What did it smell like to you?” Ron questioned eagerly, which earned a sharp nudge from Hermione. “What?” 

“Oh, it’s okay. It smelled like...I don’t know, really. Kind of spicy, woodsy, something like that I guess. Malfoy was being a complete ass about it when he and I made it up last week,” I said, my eyes glued to my plate in front of me, which meant I couldn’t see the look that passed between my two friends, one that was full of well-meant, yet irksome pity. 

“How? I mean, isn’t he always kind of awful to you?” Hermione asked, tucking a strand of curly hair behind her ear. 

“Oh, you know. The usual. Wouldn’t leave me alone until I told him, and when I asked him what it smelled like to him, he acted like it was some big secret,” I said, shaking my head at the memory. 

I hadn’t told anyone the full extent of our exchange, too scared that talking about it would convince me it didn’t happen. And I didn’t want it to have been some figment of my imagination. Not even the way he had turned so angry so quickly.

“Out of curiosity,” Ron began, “What _did_ his smell like? I can’t imagine what sort of thing that foul git finds attractive.” 

The flash of his silver eyes when Malfoy had told me echoed in my mind as Ron asked. 

“Vanilla and something else were his exact words.” I answered. “But he said that isn’t what Pansy smells like, which I thought was odd.”

“Vanilla? That’s...Wait, Malfoy and Pansy are dating?” Ron realized, a look of shock spreading over his freckled face. 

I nodded vigorously. “You didn’t know? God, I’ve already run into them once while they were making out, and I nearly vomited. It doesn’t even seem like he likes her, anyways,” I added, though I wasn’t sure why. “Not that I expect he _could_ like anyone after all.”

Ron let out a howl of laughter, and Hermione let out a snort as well, though her brown eyes caught the way I was nervously tapping on the wooden table. 

“A match made in hell, those two,” Ron joked, and Hermione and I both nodded in agreement.

The rest of that day, my mind was spinning with the things that Hermione and Ron had told me. I guess it might’ve been entirely normal that he smelled something other than Pansy, but it was the way that he had hid it, the way that he had barely wanted to admit it that bothered me. I had honestly wracked my brain to see if I remembered any girl I knew smelling of vanilla, but I was coming up empty. I assumed my smell was just a generic male cologne or some sort of scent, because it surely didn’t smell like Harry’s more clean and fresh scent. 

I also couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of him so close, and about the way his shirt had clung to him and the way his rolled-up sleeves gave such a show of his strong forearms and large hands. 

_Stupid. You’re being stupid._

And I was, I realized, as I felt Malfoy’s Potions book in the bottom of my bag at the end of the day as I packed my things in my last class. I pulled it out and held it as I swung my bag onto my shoulder. What inspired me to take it, I didn’t know, but as I saw him walking briskly towards me in a slowly emptying corridor after classes had ended for the day, I regretted my actions. Immediately. At the sight of him, my stomach twisted and my heart sped up, my body remembering our interaction the evening before. His walk was really more of a prowl, and it caused the first and second years in the hallway to scamper on their way, knowing well enough by now not to get in Malfoy’s way when he was in a mood. Looking like a vengeful painting come to life, he stormed up to me, his black robes swirling around him, his tie slightly loosened and his hair disheveled, as if he had been running his hands through it during the day. I was near one of the windows that looked out onto the courtyard beyond the stone wall behind me, and I paused as he approached me, something deep within me forgetting my precious self-preservation instincts once more. 

“You have something of mine, don’t you,” He demanded, holding out a pale hand. 

I huffed, looking at the fading pink slices that still marked that particular hand. “You don’t have to be so rude, you know. I did grab your book for you, after all.”

My voice sounded much more confident than I felt, but I was the tiniest bit relieved that whatever stupid no-talking rule he had made for himself about me seemed to have been thrown out the window. That vile, small part of me that was always craving Malfoy’s attention bristled with interest as his lithe body stood in front of me.

Malfoy’s silver eyes pierced mine, then flickered down to where I held his book tight against my torso. “I didn’t ask you to put your filthy Muggle hands all over it, Adler. I turned back around to get it after I left, but it was already gone, thanks to you.” 

The hallway was entirely empty now, so I felt my stupid sense of bravado go up a bit. “If it’s so _dirty_ now, why would I give it back?” I sneered, the cold wind from outside brushing my back as I backed into the window well. 

He towered over me, once again reminding me of his growth spurt over the previous summer. “You’re fucking insufferable. Give me my book.” 

“Why should I? You’re being a dick,” I answered, leaning back against the wall. 

“Merlin’s beard, Adler, can’t you be anything other than painfully fucking annoying for once in your life?” Malfoy snarled. “Just give it here. I need to be somewhere, and talking to you is wasting my time.” 

His words...stung, and I despised that they did, even after the frequency of his verbal attacks. And just then, an idea popped into my head. I finally had a bit of leverage over Malfoy, and I _never_ truly had a large upperhand in our arguments. Granted, it was a stupid idea, but when had I really ever had good ones when Malfoy was concerned? 

“Tell me what happened to your hand, and maybe I will.” 

Red hot anger flared in Malfoy’s eyes. “Excuse me?”

I held his gaze, even as it sent my heart racing. “Tell me why your hand was all cut up the first day of term, and I’ll give your book back,” I said slowly. “A bit dense today, aren’t we?” 

Malfoy’s hand shot up and grabbed the front of my school uniform sweater, tugging me closer, making my breath catch in my throat. His grip was so tight my collar was uncomfortably restricted around my throat, and I squirmed slightly.“You’ve got some fucking nerve today, Adler. What the fuck makes you think you can talk to me like this?” Malfoy seethed, once again invading my space, his cologne faintly tickling my nose. “I won’t ask again. Give. It. Back.” 

“Tell. Me. What. Happened,” I said, mimicking his angry tone. 

Malfoy scanned my face for a few moments, and I hoped my nervousness wasn’t splattered around my face. He let go of my sweater slowly, his hand still close to me, before he, with a feather-light touch, ran his hand down the curve of my side to rest at my hip. 

“Why do you care? What, has the little Muggle started _feeling_? ” He asked, tilting his head to one side. 

Warmth bloomed in my core, and I barely had half a mind to be mad at myself as Malfoy touched me more intimately than he ever had. I could’ve sworn his pale cheeks were just a shade redder than usual, and his hand felt hot on my hip, even through the thick wool of my top. His face was eerily void of any emotion, even disgust. Leaning forward, Malfoy grabbed my chin and tilted my face up roughly so I was more level with him, his breath swirling through the loose tendrils of hair by my face. I fought the urge to rip my face away as he held it so tightly his fingertips dug into my flesh.

“I don’t _care_ ,” I said with as much fire as I could muster. “Just like you didn’t care that night in the Room of Requirement.”

Malfoy bristled, and I knew I hit a sore spot. “I didn’t,” He spat.

I didn’t respond; I merely looked at his strong face, a few strands of his white hair free of their usual styled place and hanging down into his eyes. Leaning down, he went to whisper in my ear as he spoke. 

“Sounds like you wanted me to.” His voice was hard, gruff, low, and quicker than lightning, he snatched his book out of my tight grip, his elegant face perfectly smug and satisfied with himself. “Thanks, _Mudblood._ You could at least _try_ and not be so predictable,” Malfoy taunted before walking away without another word, leaving me frozen and shocked for the second time in less than two weeks. 

_Fucking bastard._

Thanking whatever god was out there that no one saw that embarrassing exchange, I took a moment to collect myself before continuing my way back to my dormitory, my face still warm with a rosy blush. I had no clue how feeling Malfoy touch me had gone from something that made my flinch and my stomach twist with disgust to something that...that…

Something that I did not want to admit, not even to myself. 

I tried to justify my body’s reaction as I walked, telling myself it wasn’t because it was _Malfoy_ , but because I just wasn’t used to being touched like that, and hadn’t been in a while. 

It sounded pathetic, even to me. 

It almost felt like any of Malfoy’s touches stayed long after he had left, like anywhere he touched left an invisible, but permanent mark that haunted my every thought for hours and hours after. I felt the ghost of his hand on my waist the rest of that night, even as my mind was foggy with sleep and I could barely keep my eyes open. Even as my body battled for rest, my mind kept replaying the way his long fingers had so nimbly traveled the sweater-covered lines of my body, the way that he had seemed so _sincere,_ because any time we had any interaction that wasn’t entirely filled with spite and heat and disdain, I was stupid enough to entertain the thought that he might be...different. 

Of course, I hated myself for it. 

And what the hell had he meant when he had said predictable? If anything, my body’s shockingly quick reaction to his should’ve been the last thing he expected, unless he had said that just to antagonize me further. I groaned quietly in my darkened room, the moonlight peering through the glass window. I needed rest, and I needed to stop thinking about Draco fucking Malfoy.

After a while of tossing and turning, I decided that just lying there was useless, so quietly and carefully, I made my way out of my dorm, my four roommates still sleeping soundly. The gentle swish of my shoes accompanied me as I carefully left the tower, making sure with every step that I wasn’t about to get found out by Filch or a professor. Eerie quiet surrounded me as I walked, so at odds with the normal bustle and commotion of the castle, but I found that I quite enjoyed it. 

My walk went on without disturbance until I saw another shadowy figure occupying the corridor I was walking down, and I immediately ducked into a little alcove, afraid it was Filch on the prowl. The figure walked closer, and I realized that it was Harry, his hair messy and his eyes bagged with sleeplessness. He passed by me without noticing, and I, ever the curious and nosy Ravenclaw, followed him, keeping back a few feet so as to not alert him to my presence. Sure, he could’ve just been out for a walk like I was, but there was something about the tenseness of his frame that made me think otherwise. Maybe it was the fact that he pulled out the Marauder’s Map, clearly searching for someone as he walked. 

We wound through the hallways, Harry’s pace picking up after a few minutes, and suddenly he rounded a corner and entered into the boy’s bathroom. I paused just outside the door, and was about to walk away, before I heard a familiar, snarky voice. 

“What the fuck are you doing here, Potter?” Malfoy asked, his voice muffled by the closed door. I pressed my ear to the door to hear better, before remembering a charm and muttering it quickly so that the two boys’ voices could be heard clearer.

“I could ask you the same,” Harry shot back. “You’re always disappearing to odd places in the middle of the night.” 

“Checking up on me? How utterly sweet of you, Potter.”

“Just making sure you aren’t doing anything you shouldn’t be.”

Malfoy snorted. “Like that’s any of your business.”

“It is when I know what I do about your father,” Harry replied. “I saw him there that night, you know. The night Voldemort came back.”

I held in a sound of surprise as Harry’s words. I had teased Malfoy before about his father being a Death Eater, but I hadn’t actually _meant_ it.

“You’re full of shit,” Malfoy growled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Harry laughed bitterly. “I don’t? Then pull up your sleeve.”

He couldn’t actually mean…

“And why would I do that?” Malfoy asked. 

“To prove me wrong. That you didn’t get the Dark Mark.”

My stomach sank with dread. There was no way. Sure, Malfoy was evil and vile and terrible, but I didn’t think he’d be so stupid as to actully sign his life over to the Dark Lord. My heart was beating wildly as I waited for Malfoy’s answer with baited breath.

“I don’t have to prove anything to you,” Malfoy defended.

“You do, or I’m going to Dumbledore about it,” Harry warned, and I hear scuffling that could’ve been the movement of shoes on stone. 

Malfoy huffed. “Sure, go tell Dumbledore. Like that old piece of shit could do anything to me.”

“You better watch your fucking mouth, you prick. Dumbledore is the best wizard I know,” Harry growled, and it sounded like he pulled out his wand. 

“Then you’re stupider than I thought. Get out of my way, Potter,” Malfoy said. 

Harry shook his head. “No. Pull up your sleeve.”

“I’ll tell you one more time, Potter,” Malfoy spat, drawing his wand as well. “Move.”

“Pull up your sleeve.”

Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry, and Harry mimicked his actions. At the same time, both shouted spells that I couldn’t quite make out, a huge crash and shatter of glass coming from inside the room. 

Forgetting every bit of sense that I had, I shoved through the door, the scene before me violent and chaotic. Harry’s spells had hit the mirror and wall behind Malfoy, and Malfoy’s had exploded into the wooden stall to my right. They both froze, their chest heaving as they looked at me in all my sleepy glory as the water from the broken sink flooded out of the wall and soaked our feet.

“Of course, Adler shows up to defend you,” Malfoy growled, looking at me with disgust. “Even after you broke her little heart, she still can’t resist being your hero.”

My face blushed with anger, and I didn’t look at Harry even as he spoke. “I didn’t break her heart, and I have no clue what she’s doing here.”

Malfoy looked at my pinched face and laughed. “Poor Adler, not even misfit Potter wanted you, and you’re still trying to win him back.”

“I don’t want to fucking win him back. I came in here because it sounded like the two of you were trying to kill each other,” I responded. 

“How much did you hear?” Harry asked from my left. 

Looking Malfoy dead in his cold eyes and then making a show of looking down at his forearm that was still clad in a white shirt, I answered. “Enough.”

“You bitch,” Malfoy snarled at me, raising his wand once more. 

I quickly pulled mine out, pointing it at him. Harry lifted his once more, and the three of us stood in a sort of triangle, Malfoy’s wand on me, and Harry’s and mine on him. Harry was still behind me, and I was in between the two wizards, the water that Malfoy had splashed on his face earlier still wet on his shirt and jaw. 

Malfoy lunged towards me, and I tried to twist out of his way, but before Malfoy could even open his mouth, Harry shouted, “Sectumsempra!”

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the bolt of light from Harry’s wand hit Malfoy right in the chest, catching my left side slightly as it passed. Pain exploded in my side, warm blood immediately wetting my shirt. Malfoy stumbled back a few steps, violent red lines appearing across his torso as if some invisible being was drawing them. His pale face was even whiter as it twisted with pain, and he slumped to the floor.


	20. Shatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 2 of sinners and serpents is up! enjoy<3

Violent red blood mixed with the leaking sink water, turning everything pink as Malfoy hit the ground and his wounds gushed crimson. My heart felt like it was being ripped in two as he fell, my mind screaming out in panic, even as I did nothing but watch. I felt frozen, like I couldn’t move, as I watched his body convulse in agony before snapping out of it as he let out a whimper of pain. Disregarding my own wound, I rushed forward, the bloody water soaking my bottoms as I knelt next to Malfoy’s nearly incoherent body, not noticing how hard the impact on the stone floor jolted my kneecaps. The panic that I felt, the pure and overwhelming terror, was far too strong for how I thought I felt about Malfoy, but I pushed that to the back of my mind, my thoughts a frenzied mess as I scrambled to do something, _anything._

_God, why is it_ always _me in these situations?_

I looked over my shoulder, where Harry was frozen, his eyes wide and his face drained of blood so completely I was worried he might pass out. 

“Harry,” I said loudly, my voice trembling. He didn’t respond, didn’t even look at me, his green eyes still glued to the boy bleeding out in front of me. 

“Harry!” I shouted this time. 

A horrified look was painted across my face as I took in the damage that he was done. “What the hell did you do?” I said, terror encasing my voice. I had never seen, never even _heard_ of any spell that could do something like that. 

“I don’t— It was in my Potions book— I—“ Harry stuttered, his eyes wide, stuck on Malfoy’s writhing form. 

Anger surged in me, more than it should’ve, and I sucked in a breath.

“So you just fucking decided to try a spell you didn’t know? He might fucking die because of you!” I half-screamed, shocked at what he had done. 

He startled, as if he had woken from a trance, and finally looked at me, his expression gaunt with terror. 

“I--I didn’t---” He stammered. 

“I don’t fucking care!” I snapped. “Help me!” 

Harry walked to us slowly, too slowly, and Malfoy groaned in pain again, his eyes fluttering rapidly. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” I cursed. “Fuck, okay, you lift him on that side, and I’ll lift this side, and we’ll carry him, but we have to be quick and quiet. Understand?” I asked, Harry bending down to slide his hands under Malfoy’s body. He nodded roughly, and together, we lifted the pale boy, my arms shaking with effort. 

“We-we can’t take him to Madam Pomfrey,” Harry began. 

“I know, okay? I have an idea,” I said, and I hated that I would have to return to the Room of Requirement for the second time to save Malfoy’s life.

It was a task of epic proportions to try and keep myself calm as we hauled him out of the bathroom and down the dark halls, worry and panic clawing at my chest and throat, and as I looked down at Malfoy’s now still body, I felt hot tears burn my nose, making me gulp a deep breath of cold night air into my lungs. The walk wasn’t far, but Malfoy’s blood wouldn’t stop flowing, and I knew that my hands and arms and clothing would be drenched in the ruby liquid by the time we got him to our destination. 

Harry shoved the door open, and we struggled to lift Malfoy up to the height of the bed, making him emit a small whine as we jostled him. I winced at the sound, agony panging in me as I looked at his injured frame. Harry was still not entirely mentally present, so I knew it was up to me to find anything to stop the bleeding, because it wasn’t, and even as I kept my face blank, I struggled to breath with the anxiety that was crushing me like a massive rock. I didn’t want Malfoy to die, couldn’t let him fucking leave me alone when he was the only even sort of normal thing that still remained in my life, so much so that it felt as though I was on autopilot, my body forcing me to take action even as my mind collapsed with horror. As I searched, I snapped a command at Harry. 

“Take off his shirt.” 

The sounds behind me hopefully meant that Harry had removed the stained white button-up, and judging by the gasp that left Harry’s mouth, the cuts were bad. I searched quickly for bandages, but then realized Harry and I both still had our wands with us. Rushing back to the bed, I asked Harry if he remembered the spell that Flitwick had taught us that closed up wounds a few weeks ago. He nodded grimly, and god, maybe I was stupid, because it was by far the hardest and trickiest spell we had learned to date, and even Hermione hadn’t done it right, but it was the only thing that I could think of that would be fast enough to stop the horrible waterfall of blood still pouring out of Malfoy’s muscled torso. 

Counting down to one, Harry and I began the spell, my hands shaking with worry. Malfoy’s flesh stitched together as we ran our wands along the lengths of his extensive wounds, causing him to moan quietly in discomfort, his eyes still closed. Some of the cuts didn’t close properly, and even after I went over them, some spots still oozed bright blood, but the flow was lessening considerably, and I could feel my breathing turn back to normal, even as Malfoy still didn’t become conscious again after we finished. His torso was still a horrid mess, and I hoped that our work had been good enough to keep him stable. Remembering the healing tonic I had seen on the shelf in my frenzy to find bandages, I grabbed it and tilted open Malfoy’s rosy lips, trickling the tonic into his mouth and down his throat, making sure it was swallowed. Harry and I took a few moments to survey our work as the color returned to Malfoy’s face. His torso was a gruesome abstract of garish red, swollen lines and valleys from our barely adequate magic, and it hurt even just to look at them, the pain feeling real enough that I could feel it stabbing my side. 

As Harry’s eyes flickered down to my torso, though, I realized it wasn’t a phantom, sympathy pain at all. I had completely forgotten about the way the spell had grazed me, and suddenly my head felt wildly dizzy with blood loss. I had to stumble back and slump into a chair before I passed out, my head swimming. It was like everything was rushing back all at once, everything drowning me in one giant wave as my mind stopped running on overdrive. 

Harry rushed over to me. “Shit, Elaine? I-” He asked, looking at the crimson stain blossoming on my top. 

Nodding weakly, I lifted up my arms to slide off my jacket, but my side screamed in protest and I let out a yelp of pain, deciding against the motion. A rustling sounded behind Harry, but I didn’t look as he reached out to grab the hem of my jacket and began to pull it up carefully, causing me to whimper in pain once more, before he was roughly shoved to the side. 

Malfoy stood, still shirtless and looking gaunt, though the color was back in his cheeks and his eyes were vivid and alert. Harry caught himself from his stumble. 

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked angrily, moving back towards me. 

Malfoy turned, a fire in his eyes that I had seen only a few times before. “Hands off, Potter. You’ve done enough. Get the fuck out,” He demanded. 

“What? No, Elaine is-“

“She’s bleeding out, because of _you,_ is what she is, Potter,” Malfoy spat, hatred oozing from every bit of his being. “Get the fuck out. You’ve done enough,” He reiterated, practically snarling at the green-eyed boy.

Harry looked at me, imploring me to request him to stay, but my head was far too light and dizzy to say anything at all. His shoulders tensed, and he addressed Malfoy one more time. 

“If you fucking hurt her in any way, I’ll-“

Malfoy glared at him. “You’ll what? It’s your fucking fault she’s injured, you stupid fucking bastard. I’m not the one she has to be worried about.” 

Harry’s face bloomed red, and my vision was spotted black as he spoke to me. “You’re just going to let him kick me out? Really?” He questioned, but it sounded like he was under water, or far away, and I just looked at him, dazed. 

Harry glared at _both_ of us before he turned and left, leaving me alone with Malfoy. Though I was dazed, surprise still ran through me at the fact that Malfoy had...defended me, almost. Had pushed Harry away even though he hadn’t meant to hurt me. 

A faint sense of anger pulsed through me at Harry actually leaving me alone with Malfoy, the boy who had just attacked us, but the stabbing pain in my side returned and I sucked in a breath at the sting. Malfoy’s preciously icy demeanor slid into something akin to worry, and he crouched down in front of me, wincing slightly at the movement. 

“Elaine,” He said, making eye contact with. My heart stuttered at him calling me by my first name, and I met his granite gaze. 

“I need to take this off,” Malfoy explained, gesturing to my jacket. “Do you want to lie down?”

I nodded slowly, both dizzy and wary of Malfoy’s sudden attempts at kindness. 

He pursed his lips, and hesitated as he went to grab my hand to help me stand. Even in a deadly situation, he still was reluctant to touch me, and it didn’t go unnoticed, a bitterness swelling in me as he pulled me up. Standing made me sway slightly, the movement making spots appear in my vision, but Malfoy urged me on until I sat on the bed. 

“Let’s take this off before you lay down. It’s going to hurt,” He told me, a flash of hesitation in his eyes as he reached for the wet hem of my jacket. He grabbed the hem and pulled it up over my head, careful not to graze my side. His motions weren’t gentle, but they were quick, and suddenly I was sitting on the stained bed in just a thin camisole, looking up at a boy who also had no top on, and who’s cheeks were flushed a brilliant red. My cheeks mirrored his as Malfoy looked at me, and I resisted the urge to cross my arms over my body, if only because I knew it would hurt more than the privacy was worth.

I looked down at my injury for the first time and felt the blood leave my face. There was a long, dripping red line across my ribs a few inches below the left side of my chest, running from the middle of my side to the middle of the front of my ribs. His eyes were quick to scan down my chest and torso, and he gestured for me to lie back and swing my legs over onto the bed, so I did. 

Laying down actually began to clear my head, even as fire pulsed in my side, and I hissed through my teeth. Malfoy lifted his hands, and I fought the urge to flinch before I realized he was merely lifting up the hem of my black tank top, his fingertips cold on my feverish skin. He lifted the fabric over my wound, bunching it so it rested just below my chest, and maybe it was the blood loss, but it felt like his hands lingered a moment longer than they absolutely had to on my stomach. His touch was hot, even as his skin was icy, leaving trails of fire as they brushed my bare abdomen, and even after he lifted his hand away, I could feel exactly where his touches had been. 

Malfoy walked over to the cabinets, muttering to himself roughly. “Goddamn idiot...so fucking reckless...and of course she had to fucking show up…”

His voice was so quiet that I could only hear bits of what he was saying, but resentment unfurled in my chest. How could he possibly be angry at me for showing up? If I hadn’t, Harry would’ve likely killed him, and I wouldn’t be lying on a soft, white bed nearly naked from the waist up.

My mood was even more foul when he returned with a green glass bottle labeled _Essence of Dittany_. I knew enough about the herb that it would sting like hell when he put it on, and there hadn’t been enough to use it on Malfoy, or it would’ve made things far easier in saving him. Malfoy set the herb bottle down, looking at my wound once more. The blood that was slowly drying on the edges was beginning to itch, and I had to resist the urge to scratch it. Without warning, Malfoy applied some of the liquid, dripping it onto the gash in my side, making it sting and smoke.

“Fuck! A little warning next time, you prick,” I yelped, trying to move away from the painful potion. 

Malfoy stopped his application, glaring at me. “Stop being such a whiny bitch and lay still. You’re making it worse.” 

I gaped at him. “Me? A whiny bitch?”

He nodded. “Yes, you. It doesn’t hurt that bad,” He snapped. 

“Fuck you, Malfoy.” 

He let out a barking laugh. “Why did I even fucking bother to help you? You’re ridiculous,” Malfoy said, and his words held an unsaid threat of him leaving, but he still unstoppered the bottle once more. “Hold still, or I’ll make you. You’re still bleeding.” 

I still hadn’t even the slightest inclination as to why he was helping me in the first place, and I was tired and frustrated and in pain and I wanted this whole night to have been a dream, so I shot back, “You’ll make me? I’d like to see you try.” I tried to twist out of his reach, making a burst of agony lance my side. 

Rage flared in Malfoy’s icy eyes, and he set the bottle on the table beside the bed before swinging his strong leg over my body lying on the mattress, sitting on my lower abdomen, carefully avoiding my cut, and effectively immobilizing me. My breath hitched, the weight of his hips pressing into mine as he sat on top of me. He looked down at me, his silver eyes scanning my face, his mouth pressing into a sharp line. 

“I told you. Stay. Still.” 

I nodded so minutely I wondered if he even saw, and he began his ministrations once more. The potion stung like hell, and I had to squeeze my eyes shut in order to stop myself from squirming, even with his body sat on mine. After a few moments of stinging and itching, it stopped, along with the pain that had been pulsating in my side. I opened my eyes slowly, Malfoy still on top of me, his eyes boring into my own. 

“Good. See, was that so hard?” He said softly, setting the bottle down, but not moving other than that. 

I didn’t answer, didn’t really even know what to say, as we were where we always ended up; one of us inevitably saving the other. I wondered fleetingly how our...relationship had come to this: moments of anger interspersed with intimate, gentle ones that always ended far too soon, even if I wouldn’t admit that to myself. 

Malfoy looked at me a moment longer, a strange expression on his face, before shifting off of me, moving to stand besides the bed once more. I sat up slowly, in case my body still was weak, but I felt almost completely better as I righted myself, still without my jacket, on the edge of the mattress. My legs dangled over the edge of the tall bed as I tugged down my tank top, wanting at least a bit of privacy, when a question popped into my mind.

“Why did you make Harry leave?” I asked tentatively, eyeing Malfoy for his reaction. 

Malfoy didn’t answer for a moment. “Why would I want to be around that asshole any longer that I need to?”

“It was an accident,” I said in defense of Harry. “He didn’t mean--”

Malfoy rolled his eyes at me. “It doesn’t matter what that idiot _meant_ to do.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re stupid as shit. He literally nearly made both of us bleed out, and you still defend him like it’ll win him back or something.”

My face reddened. “I’m not trying to win him back, you jerk. He’s my friend, and-”

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” He asked me, cutting off my explanation. 

That ever familiar sense of annoyance and anger bubbled up in me. “Can’t you go thirty seconds without insulting me? I did just save your life. _Again_.”

Malfoy shook his head. “You always have to be the hero, don’t you? You can’t just keep out of danger. Can’t just fucking stay away,” He muttered, running a hand through his blond hair that was already dishelved and still damp. 

“Okay, you know what? Fine, Malfoy. I’ll never save your sorry life again, okay?” I snapped, moving to stand up off the bed, but he stopped me. 

Malfoy pressed forward, erasing the few inches that had existed between us and slotted himself between my legs, pushing my knees apart to let him get closer. His hands came down to rest on my thighs over my thin pajama bottoms, gripping them almost uncomfortably tight. I leaned back slightly to give myself room to breath, the usual suffocating feeling of him so close creeping up, supporting myself with my arms on the mattress behind me. 

“You don’t fucking get it, do you?” Malfoy questioned. 

My voice felt broken as I tried to speak, tried to form coherent thoughts as my enemy filled my personal space, the smell of metallic blood and water and sweat hitting my nose. “Get what?” 

Malfoy laughed, a grim, despaired sound. “That you drive me insane. That---that, fuck, that you being around me is the worst possible thing for me.”

I opened my mouth to retort, but he didn’t let me. “I can’t fucking get you out of my head. I can’t--Merlin’s beard, I can’t do _anything_ at this point without thinking about you. You’ve somehow managed to fucking worm your way into my brain and I can’t stop thinking about--” He stopped himself, and I found myself wanting to know what he was about to say. 

His words had made my heart speed up, and I couldn’t _believe_ what he was saying, and his hands were gripping so tight that I thought they might actually leave bruises in the shape of his hands. My mind was reeling and I had no words; I could only listen as he unravelled. 

“Being around you makes me become some person that I don’t even fucking recognize, and--and I can never get rid of your _smell_ or the sound of your voice in my head or the way that touching you makes me feel, and I--I want to hate it so badly, I want to hate _you_ so badly,” Malfoy stuttered, and I was shocked by his unusual lack of composure, shocked by the pure and unveiled emotion swelling in his eyes. “And I can’t keep myself away from you, even when I tell myself it will only end in anger and pain, even when I try to convince myself that you’re nothing, that you aren’t worth my time, I can’t. It’s like...it’s like my body _craves_ being near you, and I can’t do a single damn thing to stop it, not even when I know that it’s bad for me.” 

But I was even more shocked that he had just put into words everything that I had unknowingly been feeling the past few months. Every single thing. 

Malfoy let go of my thighs, bringing his hands to run through his hair frustratedly, then dropping them down at his sides. “And of course it’s you that I fucking feel this way around, not Pansy, not the girl that I’m actually meant to be with, who is so painfully stupid and dull and not even-- and of course it’s the Ravenclaw Muggle, the girl that has been a goddamn pain in my ass since we met, the girl that infuriates and annoys the shit out of me more than anyone I have ever met.” 

His words stung, more than I wanted them to, but I knew he wasn’t wrong, because... that was how I felt, too. I hated that even while dating Harry, Malfoy had consumed the majority of my thoughts. I had been with the most revered wizard of our age, and I couldn’t get this rude, manipulative, dangerous boy out of my head for one second.

“And did you ever for one fucking second think that seeing you with Harry, seeing him try and take off your damn jacket, how that would make me feel? How seeing that sorry excuse for a wizard’s clumsy hands all over you makes me--” He stopped again, and surprise was the only emotion I could feel. I _hadn’t_ thought about it, because why would I? How could I ever, in a million years, know that Malfoy held anything other than complete contempt for me in his heart?

“Makes me feel _sick_ , utterly nauseous, and you just _let_ him touch you, all the time,” Malfoy said, shaking his head. 

“And you,” He let out another bitter laugh, his voice rough with emotion. “And you were so fucking dense that you couldn’t even figure out that,” He hesitated, cleared his throat, “That _you_ were what I smelled when we had to make up the Amortentia.” 

My heart stopped. Actually, genuinely had to have stopped, because it felt like I couldn’t breathe or move or respond at all as he revealed everything. 

“M-me?” I asked, speaking for the first time since he began. 

“Yes, you,” He snarled. “You and your stupid fucking vanilla and what, bergamot, perfume that stays for _hours_ after you’ve left me alone. It doesn’t go away,” He said, his voice now lower. “You don’t go away.” 

My chest felt tight as he paused. “Why the hell do you think I run off like some fucking terrified child every single time I get close to you? It’s like I can’t control myself around you, and I _hate_ it, more than anything I’ve ever felt in my entire life.” 

I searched his eyes for anything that could let me play this off as some cruel trick, because the feelings and thoughts that he was making me realize as he spoke were so terrifying, so real, that I wanted any excuse to make them go away. 

“I--” I began, truly at a loss for words. “I…”

Malfoy’s face hardened again, pulling back a bit out of my face. “You must think I’m the stupidest fucking person alive. Potter and Weasley and Granger are probably going to shit themselves laughing when you tell them, aren’t they?” He growled, panic lacing his deep voice. 

“No, Malfoy, I-” I tried again, but he interrupted once more. 

“You’re probably laughing at me right now, at how fucking pathetic I am, right?” Malfoy said, almost like he wanted that to be what I was doing and why I couldn’t speak. 

“And you probably can’t wait to use this against me, to blackmail me or threaten me or--”

I must’ve been feeling brave, or insane, or both, because as he began prattling on again, because he wouldn’t fucking shut it and let me speak, I pushed myself up completely so I was sitting up right, grabbed his beautiful, terrifying, mysterious face with both my hands, and pulled him in for a kiss that made everything that we knew around us shatter to irreparable pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed!!! just a heads up: next chapter we're finally going to get some nsfw stuff, which i'm pretty pumped about! thank you as always for reading <3


	21. Bad Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -kinda nsfw- ch3 of sinners and serpents is up  
> enjoy!

Malfoy’s mouth was hot, soft, as I pressed my lips to his, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest as I crossed over that boundary, knowing that this was something I could never take back. He just...stood there for a moment, and I pulled away, embarrassment rising in my chest, making my stomach twist with nausea. 

“I-”

“Shut up,” He practically growled at me before Malfoy’s strong arms encircled me and pulled me in until he was practically crushing me against his lithe chest, like he couldn’t get me close enough. His mouth began to move against mine, and I sighed gently into him, relief flooding me, the taste of his lips so sweet and enticing I couldn’t get enough. As his mouth slotted against mine, I realized just how damn long I had been longing to feel his lips on mine, and I couldn’t believe that it was actually happening. I should’ve felt panic, or fear, or the extreme urge to run as he pulled me in so close I could barely suck in a full breath, but all I felt was _more_ , I wanted _more_. 

Tentatively, I slid my hands from his chiseled cheeks to his pale hair, longing to finally feel his silky hair in between my fingers. Wrapping the blond tresses around my fingers, I tugged slightly, earning a low growl from Malfoy, lighting a heat in my core that should’ve sent me running, but didn’t, because I was already addicted to the feel of Malfoy’s mouth on mine. His lips moved slowly, our kisses long and passionate, as if we were trying to drink the other up as much as we could to make up for all the lost time. Malfoy unwrapped his arms from around me, and that panicking feeling of rejection set in, making me begin to lean away, before he moved to place one on my hip and the other roughly grabbing my chin, as if he couldn’t bear to let me move away. I didn’t want to either, because in that moment, as his hands lit a fire everywhere they touched and his mouth seemed to slot so perfectly against mine, I wouldn’t have moved away for all the money in the world. 

The kisses were wonderful, but still slow, _too_ slow after waiting so damn long, so I revved up my courage once more and gently bit his plush lower lip for just a moment, and the sound that Malfoy emitted was so low, so _delicious_ , that I thought I might die right then and there. He angled my body away from the stained bed and towards the brick wall beside it, pressing me backwards until I hit the wall with a soft _oof_ , the surface cold as it pressed through my thin undershirt. Malfoy trailed his hand from the bone of my hip to the hem of my black top, his fingers teasing the bare skin between my bottoms and the line of tank top fabric, making my body, seemingly out of its own volition, arch my back slightly to press into his touch as much as I could. An ache built in my core, Malfoy’s touches so utterly driving me wild.

Malfoy apparently didn’t want that, because he growled, and pushed me back so I was flush with the wall again, then resumed his lazy touches that were making my mind go foggy with want as he teased lazy lines between the two seams of my clothing, never straying his hand further north or south. Part of my mind was still screaming at me, telling me that this was a terrible, horrible, awful idea and that I was practically _begging_ for my enemy, for the boy that had made my life hell, to use me and then discard of me like I was nothing, because that part of my mind was so certain that he would. 

But I didn’t care. Not one bit. Especially not when his slender fingers wrapped gently around the column of my throat, making me gasp with anticipation. His fingertips felt like five individual matches searing my skin, but I couldn’t find it in myself to push him away. His touch was so addictive that all I could think about was feeling his big, slightly calloused, slender hands on every inch of my bare skin. Malfoy gave me one last deep, wild kiss that had me breathless, pressing his mouth firmly to mine so deeply that I couldn’t breathe, his hand pressing carefully into my throat, and then he finally disconnected his lips from mine, both of us panting slightly.

I searched his face for any sign of danger, of fury or disgust, but I found only want and disbelief plastered across his granite features. He lifted his hand off my throat, and I felt my stomach sink a millimeter as he did so, but he stayed close enough that his scent still clouded my nostrils, and as he looked at me, there was something so familiar about the smell…

_Oh_. God, maybe Malfoy was right, I was a goddamn idiot, because until that very moment, I hadn’t realized that…

“It smelled like your cologne,” I whispered, shocked that it had taken me so long to figure it out. 

Malfoy, bare chest still heaving, tilted his head to the side in confusion. 

I choked out a bewildered laugh. “The Amortentia,” I said in a way of explanation, and understanding that bloomed in Malfoy’s eyes. 

“Fuck,” Malfoy said softly, those silver eyes searching my own. His hand was still on my stomach, and I wished desperately that he would keep it there, even as the sense of dread began to trickle in, because I was horrified he was going to yell, or scream, or maybe even retch with disgust at the fact that I had kissed him. 

I nodded quickly in response, and his eyes flickered down to my mouth. “Maybe you do have some guts after all, Adler,” He said. 

I huffed a small, nervous laugh. “You wouldn’t stop talking. I had to shut you up somehow.” 

Malfoy let out a quick, choked laugh, the lightest sound I’d ever heard him make in all the years I had known him. “What a fucking mess,” He began, and I bit my lip anxiously. 

“I…” I said, thinking over my words very carefully, because all I wanted to do was have his mouth on mine again, and I knew that if I said one word wrong, he would run off and probably never talk to me again. “We…” 

Malfoy shook his head. “Elaine, for once, can we please not fucking talk about our _feelings_ ,” He said, his eyes scanning my body up and down, my heart jumping at the way my name sounded coming from his slightly kiss-swollen lips, “And can we just...fuck, can we just let ourselves just enjoy this while it lasts? This doesn’t have to mean anything.” 

_Because it doesn’t,_ shouldn’t _, mean anything,_ hung unsaid in the air between us, and I knew I was being stupid, and reckless, and quite possibly had lost my mind, because I nodded in agreement, and a devilish grin spread over Malfoy’s elegant face. 

In one quick motion, his mouth was on mine again, and I nearly moaned at the soft sensation of his rosy lips between mine. I had never felt this level of desire, this amount of pure need, with anyone in my entire life, and it felt both overwhelming and completely _right_ , and I could barely sort through my thoughts, especially with Malfoy’s hands and lips all over me. His hands both dropped down, cupping behind my thighs and hefting me up with a smooth, obviously well-practiced move, which caused a momentary spike of jealousy to run through me. Malfoy urged my thighs to wrap around his hips, and I complied eagerly, feeling his strong pelvis press into me, feeling _him_ press into me, and I did let a moan out at that, releasing the sound into Malfoy’s mouth that was still moving against mine. His large hands nearly wrapped around the entire width of the backs of my thigh, and I reached up with a hand to wrap around the nape of his neck, tugging him ever closer, wanting, _needing_ , more of every bit of him. As I did, one of his hands trailed up to cup my ass, grabbing it roughly in his wide palm, and I pressed into the warm touch. 

His bare chest heaved against me, and I reached out with a nervous hand to touch his chiseled chest like my mind had urged me to that day in the rain before our first Quidditch match. His skin was smooth, hot, and corded with toned muscled as I trailed down his abdomen, carefully avoiding his still-tender wounds. I reached the bottom of his torso, the hem of his pants rough against my fingertips, and I remembered the sight of his hipbone disappearing under his pants the first time I had saved his life, making me almost groan with the memory. Slowly, I slipped a finger below the hem, brushing the skin near his hip ever so lightly. 

Malfoy’s hips began to move against mine, and I whimpered into his mouth, feeling his member press roughly against me, causing the previously slow-building ache to skyrocket as I felt him in between my thighs. Malfoy attacked my mouth with a renewed fervor at that, and I felt so overwhelmed and so good that my head was swimming, even as our actions were relatively mild compared to some of the stories I had heard from Cho and Hermione. His teeth caught my lower lip and bit rather roughly, causing a surprised sound to emit from my mouth, and Malfoy repeated the motion, tugging slightly. He pulled back for just a moment, a wild light in his eyes as he looked at me, and then began trailing feather-light kisses across my jaw, to my ear, and down my neck, each connection not nearly enough for what my body was craving, and I tilted my head back as much as I could pressed against the brick wall, drowning in the feeling of his hot mouth on the tender skin of my jaw and neck. Malfoy continued his too-gentle kisses, occasionally barely scraping against the sensitive skin with his teeth, and I felt frustration bubble up in me at his annoyingly fleeting touches. An involuntary, inpatient whine escaped my throat as he pressed the lightest kiss yet to just below the corner of my jaw, and as I did, a low snort rumbled in the blond boy’s chest.

His mouth still hovering near my neck, he asked in an innocently sweet voice, “What’s wrong?” 

I shook my head, my dignity having already plummeted much too far that night. I would _not_ beg, or do anything of the sort, not when it came to Malfoy. Malfoy stood up completely then, his hands still squeezing my thighs. My heart sunk as he stopped his motions, and I felt my face fall as he looked at me. 

“I asked you a question,” He said, his voice near a growl. “Answer.” 

I shook my head again, looking away from him, my face burning red with embarrassment, because how the hell was I actually supposed to voice that I wanted _more_ from the only person I had ever felt genuine hatred for?

His eyes turned fiery, and he pressed his hips even harder into me, replacing the support that his left hand had been offering as he lifted it up to grab my chin, forcing me to look at him, his steely eyes bright and focused. 

My breath stuttered in my chest, and my heart was racing, a mixture of anxiety and excitement swirling within me. I debated saying nothing, but god, I was already so far into the massive pile of shit that was this new...development in Malfoy and I’s relationship, and I had already done so many idiotic things that night, one more couldn’t hurt.

“Please,” I said, my voice barely above a shaky whisper. 

Dangerous excitement lit Malfoy’s eyes, but his grip still held firm on my chin. “Please what?” He questioned, a knowing grin already painted on his stupidly smug, stupidly _handsome_ face. 

I glared at him, though it lacked any real fire because his hand was still a fiery collar around my throat and his hips were still pressed so deliciously into mine. My jaw clenched with stubbornness, but he merely looked at me expectantly. “Just...please,” I said pathetically. 

Malfoy shook his head. “Either tell me, or I’m walking out of this room right now.”

_Shit_. I sucked in a short breath, my face heating with shame as I spoke, trying to look anywhere other than his eyes. “I need more,” I mumbled. 

A smug smirk painted Malfoy’s face, and my face was practically burning as he looked at me. “Good girl,” He murmured, so softly I wasn’t entirely sure I had heard him right. 

His words sent heat pooling in my core, and he finally put his lips back on my neck, scraping his teeth roughly against the soft skin, and I let out a high-pitched sound full of pleasure as he did, the combination of pain from his teeth and pleasure from the burning kisses he would place right after making me feel like there was nothing else in the world besides his mouth on me. 

The brick was beginning to scrape roughly into my back as Malfoy moved, bringing clarity to my lust-fogged mind, so I reluctantly tugged my legs out of his grasp, placing my feet on the ground, wobbling under my own weight. Malfoy pulled back just enough to let me down, but he was still too close for me to even begin to try and think properly, and though I wanted this to continue forever, I didn’t want to do anything I’d regret. 

Well, anything _else_.

Malfoy towered over me, looking down at my face with those wintery eyes of his, and I found my eyes begging me to look down at his uncovered chest that was pricked with bits of sweat from our...activities. His pale torso glistened with moisture, the sweat highlighting the higher ridges of his barely healed torso, and the sight of his injuries sent my head spinning; not in the warm, pleasant way were he was all I could think of, but in the panicked, scared way where I began to realize just exactly what had happened over the course of the dark night. 

“Malfoy, I--” I began, and I guess my features gave away how I was feeling, because Malfoy, as quick as I blinked, turned stony and frozen, his eyes flashing with rejection so quickly I barely caught it. 

“No, shut up,” Malfoy interrupted, backing away from me. “Don’t.”

“But-”

“I fucking said shut up,” He growled. “I said we don’t have to talk about this, about whatever the hell just happened. Why don’t you ever fucking listen?” 

I balked in the face of his rising rage. “I just wanted to-”

“No! No. Don’t you get it? We can’t, we can’t,” Malfoy muttered, running his hands through his hair that was still messy from my touches. “We _can’t._ We can’t talk about this, we can’t even think about it, because this can’t fucking happen.”

“But it did! And I know I kissed you, but you-” 

“I know what I fucking did!” He snarled, and I was getting really fucking fed up with him not letting me speak. 

“Can you fucking shut it and let me speak for once? Jesus Christ,” I snapped, sighing with annoyance. “I...god, I hate myself for this, and I’m sure you do, too, but you can’t just act like this didn’t happen!” 

Malfoy looked at me, disgust curling his features. “Fucking watch me. This never fucking happened, and if you ever say otherwise, you’ll fucking regret it,” He growled, and stormed out of the room, bloodied shirt still laying on the stained white sheets of the bed. The burning heat of want disappeared into thin air along with Malfoy, and I was left uncomfortable and ashamed. My stomach sunk, horror and nausea swirling together to create a horrific, heavy sludge, making me feel like I was about to vomit. My hands began to shake and I took a shuddering breath, everything crashing down on me. I should’ve known that that was how it was going to go; my brain had tried to tell me, and yet I had been so seduced by Malfoy showing me the smallest bit of affection that I had ignored it. 

I had kissed Malfoy. I had kissed _Draco Malfoy_ , and he had kissed me back, and then fucking left me here, and--and now…

Pain rippled through me as I bent over and the contents of my stomach came pouring out as my mind caught up with the actions of my body. I wiped my mouth and leaned against the wall, my vision spinning, shame and disgust flowing through me. Disgust at the fact that I had kissed the person who had made my life hell more than anyone alive besides my father, disgust at the fact that I had even wanted to.

Disgust, because I wanted more. 

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to dowse the wildfire of dread and utter self-hatred that was trying to swallow me like dry kindling, but I couldn’t; it burned bright in me, so bright that I let out a frustrated yell and spun around, smashing my fist into the solid brick behind me. My hand flared with agony, but the pain was a welcome distraction from what I had just done. 

I took a few moments to collect my things, and I exited the Room of Requirement, somehow managing to get myself back to my dormitory without any more unpleasantness, and, barely remembering to change my bloodied shirt for a clean one, collapsed immediately onto my bed, darkness swallowing me as my brain welcomed the feeling of much needed sleep.

\-------

The next morning, I woke up to Cho shaking me aggressively, making me mumble angrily and try and turn over, but she wouldn’t have it. 

“Elaine, get up! You’re going to miss breakfast,” Cho warned, her voice pulling me from my sleep. 

“Go away,” I mumbled, trying to fight her hand off. 

Cho rolled her eyes and tore my covers off, making me yelp as the cold morning air met my skin. “Jesus, Cho!”

Cho sighed. “Seriously, let’s go. I don’t want to miss breakfast.”

I returned her sigh and sat up, letting my eyes adjust to the bright sunlight streaming in through the thick window next to me. As I turned to grab a sweater, Cho let out a gasp. 

“Merlin’s beard, Elaine. You have some fun last night?” Cho said, sounding a bit impressed. 

My stomach plummeted, and it felt like I had been caught doing something I shouldn’t have. “Fuck,” I grumbled, closing my eyes and rubbing them fiercely with the heels of my hands, pain rippling through the hand that had collided with the wall. So last night _hadn’t_ been some blood loss-induced fever dream. I had actually kissed Draco Malfoy. And had also been left alone by him once more. My mood sank, though I tried to keep my face neutral even as I felt like crying. 

I quickly grabbed a sweater that had a higher collar and tugged it over my head, my side protesting with an ache at the quick movement, still not quite recovered from the night before.

Standing up, I combed through my hair with my fingers, holding in a whimper as I felt, rather than saw, the effects of my release of anger on my hand last night, and told Cho I was ready to go, receiving a stern look in return. 

“What?” I asked as we left the dormitory, heading down to the common room and out of the tower. 

“You know what,” Cho said, rolling her eyes. “You wake up with a giant bruise right there,” she poked the bruised skin on the junction of my neck and shoulder, “And you really ask me what I’m so shocked about?” 

I batted her hand away. “Knock that off. It’s no big deal, really,” I responded. 

“No big deal,” Cho repeated. “You’re ridiculous, but fine, you don’t want to talk about it. I respect that. Can you at least tell me who it was so I can be excited that you’ve moved on from Harry?” She asked, giving me her best puppy eyes, making me smile. 

_Moved on from Harry_. Had I? I mean, I hadn’t thought about him once while kissing Malfoy, so I supposed that meant that I was. Or it just meant I hadn’t been thinking clearly. Obviously, I couldn’t actually tell her who it was, because I had no desire to deal with Cho’s judgement _or_ Malfoy’s inescapable wrath when he found out, because he definitely would. I scrambled for a moment, trying to think. 

“It was, um,” I began, Cho’s expectant gaze boring into me. “Um, it’s...a secret,” I finished lamely, giving her a weak smile. 

Cho pouted. “Fine, don’t tell me. Whatever,” She sighed dramatically, but I knew that she wasn’t actually that upset by the jovial light in her eyes. “Will you at least tell me how it was?” 

God, what a question. How had it been? I hadn’t really given myself time at all to consider if it had been _good_ or not, considering the extreme anxiety I felt about the entire situation. 

We entered the Great Hall, and I sighed. “God, it was...it was good,” I told her, my cheeks flushing, my mind flooding with the faint traces of heat and want and desire from last night, making me feel even worse than before. 

Cho giggled, patting me on the shoulder. “Good, you deserve some fun!” She told me, sitting down with Hermione and Ron at the head of the table, the two of them already eating. 

I hesitated as she did, not sure if I wanted to be in a situation where I would see Harry after the events of the previous night, but Ron, his mouth full of food, told me to sit, and, a bit reluctantly, I did. Hermione had a book open in front of her, carefully placed away from Ron’s aggressive chewing, and she smiled at the two of us as we sat. 

“Elaine has a hickey!” Cho burst out, wearing a shit-eating grin. 

I groaned, placing my head in my hands. “Really, Cho? Was that necessary?” 

Ron looked at me with wide eyes, and Hermione rolled her eyes, though she was smiling slightly. “A hickey?” Ron said, his words garbled by the bite of pancake he had just stuffed in his mouth. 

“It’s not a big deal,” I grumbled, popping a blueberry in my mouth. “It’s not like we’re twelve or something. It happens.”

“But she won’t say who,” Cho informed the pair sitting across from us as Harry walked up behind Hermione and Ron, sitting next to his ginger friend.

“Say who did what?” Harry asked casually, avoiding looking at me and beginning to fill his plate up. 

“Who gave her the hickey,” Cho told him, and he choked on his sip of water. 

Ron smacked him on the back, and Harry motioned that he was fine. My face began heating up as Harry looked at me, a suspecting look in his eyes. I prayed that he wouldn’t put two and two together, that this was one of those times where he was going to be painfully oblivious, but I doubted I would be so lucky. 

Harry merely said, “Oh,” in a disinterested tone and started to eat, the conversation carrying on, leaving the topic of the bruise on my neck behind much to my relief. Breakfast was quick because I had woken up so late, and everyone left for class. I decided it was best to go to the hospital wing first to get my aching hand examined, telling my friends I had accidentally hit it in the middle of the night on my bedside table, so I made my way there, but Harry appeared beside me, telling the others he was going to walk with me to his class that was on the way to the hospital wing. 

It definitely wasn’t, but I couldn’t very well just tell him to piss off, even though as he walked silently with me, that’s all I wanted to do. As we left the more crowded hallways of the castle, Harry grabbed my arm to stop me from walking. 

“So how long have you been shagging Malfoy?” He demanded, making my face twist with confusion, and I hoped the fake look of disgust and surprise I plastered on my face was convincing enough. 

“I am not shagging Malfoy,” I shot back. “What the fuck makes you think that?”

Harry rolled his eyes unkindly. “I know that you did not have that hickey last night, and suddenly, you show up with one this morning. Unless you’ve started having midnight hookups with random boys, the only boy you were with last night was Malfoy. He told me to leave when I was trying to help you. What the hell else am I supposed to assume?” 

Shame and anger bubbled up, and I tried to swallow it down. “I didn’t have sex with Malfoy. I would hope you think a little higher of me than that, Potter,” I spat, though part of me winced at that, because my standards last night had been abysmally low, and telling Harry that he should think better of me when I had literally jumped at the first chance to kiss a boy who had made it very, very clear that he was disgusted by me was ridiculously funny. 

“I’m not fucking stupid,” Harry spat, and I nearly flinched at the pure venom in his voice. “Why the fuck else would he have kicked me out last night when you very clearly were not okay?” 

“Did you maybe consider that he didn’t want to be around the person who nearly killed him not even an hour before?” I replied, my voice hushed to a whisper, and hurt flashed in Harry’s eyes. 

“Jesus, you’re _defending_ him now? You have sex with Malfoy once, and all the sudden you forget that he fucking hates your guts? That he’s disgusted by you? That touching you makes him want to vomit?” Harry whisper-yelled back, and I actually flinched this time. “How fucking stupid can you be? Are you that fucking starved for attention?”

His words sent a pang of hurt ringing through me; not only did he think I would have sex with Malfoy, but he thought I was so shallow that that would make me entirely forget how terribly he had treated me throughout the years? Because he _had_ treated me terribly, I reminded myself, and no amount of late-night kissing could ever erase that. 

“You know what? You’re a goddamn asshole,” I told Harry, hot tears burning in my eyes as his words took hold and began to tear me apart. I saw shame and regret flicker in his eyes, but it didn’t matter. He had meant what he said, and I knew it. “I didn’t have sex with Malfoy, and even if I fucking did, you’ve treated me just as awfully lately as he has, so why should it be any of your business? You’ve already lost me as a friend, Harry,” I said, emotion cracking my voice as I looked at him through blurred eyes. “You’ve already broken my heart. You nearly made me bleed out. What else do you fucking want from me?” 

I wished that my words were angrier than they were; they came out as a half sob, my voice weak with tears. Frustratedly, I roughly wiped the hot tears from my face as Harry looked at me, the hallway around us empty as everyone had already gotten to their classes that had just begun. 

“I just…” Harry paused, “You think that me getting with Ginny means that I stopped loving you, that you stopped being my friend. It doesn’t mean that at all. I know I was awful, I know. But just because I’m a complete and utter idiot,” He said, rubbing his face with his hands, “Doesn’t mean that I don’t regret every single thing that I’ve done since Christmas, especially last night. You have no clue how sorry I am for hurting you.”

A sinking feeling settled in my gut as he admitted his feelings. I shook my head, so sick and tired of his attempts to make me feel better. “I don’t care if you regret them or not, Harry. Don’t you understand that? You hurt me. You were the only person in the entire world who I felt actually knew me, and the first chance you got, you threw me to the side for a less complicated, more ideal girl. You played with my feelings, and you can’t deny that. It was a dick move to ever fucking get with me if you had even the smallest bit of an idea that you might have feelings for anyone else in the entire world; it doesn’t matter who it was. You were my best friend,” my voice cracked and I cursed myself as the tears began to flow again, “You were my best friend, and I lost you. I _miss_ you, but I can’t be friends with someone who says such horrid things to me, who hurt me so badly.” 

Harry, to my surprise, had glistening tears swimming in his eyes, and I felt my chest ache at the sight. “I know,” He said, his voice weak. “I--I was a complete idiot, and I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know. I should’ve just told you, but I was so scared of hurting you.”

“Scared of hurting me? Bullshit,” I said, and I let out a bitter half-laugh, so angry at his sorry attempt at an apology that I had to take a breath to calm down. “Grow some balls, Potter. I am so goddman _sick_ of being tossed around and used and hurt and fucking having the worst luck in the entire world. I'm _tired_ of it, Harry, of everything. Of my family and pretending everything is always okay when I am so far from okay, of Malfoy, of you saying you're sorry and in the same breath, insulting and degrading me. It is so painfully obvious that hurting me was the last thing you were thinking about the first time you kissed Ginny during break, even though I was under the impression that we were still together whenever the hell that happened, just like you were the last damn thing I thought of while kissing Malfoy.” 

_Shit_. 

Harry’s eyes grew wide, the tears no longer shining in them, fury taking their place. “I fucking knew it! How fucking thick are you? Seriously? _Malfoy?_ ” Harry seethed, and I threw every curse word I knew at myself for being such a stupid, careless idiot. 

“That-no-, I didn’t actually-” I tried to lie, make it seem like I had just said that to be a prick, but my act was shitty at best. Harry’s face turned cold as I stammered, and it was like I could see every wall he was building in his mind against me, brick by frozen brick. 

“You know what, Elaine? I would tell you to be careful, but I can’t really find it in myself to give a shit about you and your little games anymore,” Harry told me, looking at me with utter disdain. “You can fuck that bastard for all I care, but when he hurts you, and I mean when he actually _physically_ hurts you, because I know he will, don’t come crying to me about it. I’m done with this.” 

Harry turned and stormed off, leaving me standing there, and I couldn’t stop the warm tears from cascading down my face as I lost my best friend for the second time.


	22. A/N

This isn't a new chapter, but I promise there will be one tonight or tomorrow! I have like, three more pages to write.

But I have a few announcements: As it's taken me a bit longer to upload this chapter, I've had a lot of time to think about the flow of this story and the plot and because I am a horrific perfectionist, I've started disliking some of the things I've written. While I wish I could redo basically the whole story because I am far too hard on myself, and I feel that this story has much more potential than what I've given it so far, that would be too much work, so instead, slowly, I'm going to start editing and revising the chapters a few at a time. I feel like there are a lot of chapters where I focused more on just getting it done rather than making it _good_ , and that'll bother me forever if I don't fix it. It won't majorly change really any parts of the story, but if it does, I'll make it known on that particular chapter. I'm also going to make this story more ~nsfw~ because...why not? I didn't plan out a single thing when I started this story, and that definitely came back to bite me in the ass, but it means the world to me that, even with all its imperfections, you guys have loved this as much as I do! Writing has always been a secret passion of mine, and the fact that I have people who not only read what I write, but also enjoy it, is insane to me. Thank you for all the comments and views and kudos and everything! As I get the plot cleared up and school stops being so insane, updates will be coming faster. Thank you for your patience, and thank you again for all the love that this story has been shown!

-gthgrlxo


	23. Confusion and Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry this chapter took so long! chapter four of Sinners and Serpents is up as well. enjoy!

It turned out I had shattered quite a few little bones in my hand with my incredibly mature outburst, meaning that I had to keep my hand wrapped for at least a week, even after the work that Madam Pomfrey did on it. 

Great. 

I was a goddamn idiot for kissing Malfoy, and I was an even bigger idiot for hitting the very obviously solid brick wall like I did. After leaving the infirmary, I realized that my next class was Potions, and with dread and anxiety twisting my stomach into knots, I decided that I wouldn’t be going. I couldn’t face Malfoy, and I couldn’t deal with the rejection that was sure to come, even though I tried to tell myself I was only skipping because my hand hurt. 

My footsteps were heavy and sullen on the dense stones as I bypassed the entrance to the dungeon completely and headed up to the library, because if I was going to skip Potions, I might as well be productive with my newly-found free time. To my relief, the room was practically empty, allowing me to nestle myself away in the furthest, dimmest corner of the library with the heaping pile of homework that seemed to be always growing no matter how much work I did.

Picking up my quill to dip it in my pot of midnight ink, my hand screamed in protest as I tried to wrap my fingers around the pen, pain radiating from my knuckles. Dropping the quill, I did my best to hold in the whimper that crept up into my throat as the pain refused to subside. I heard a soft sound and looked up from my damaged appendage to see Dean Thomas standing in front of me, a warm smile on his kind face. 

“Need some help?” He asked, looking at where my bandaged hand was cradled to my chest. 

I was about to protest, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to get this paper done by myself anytime soon, so I nodded, smiling gratefully at him as he pulled out the chair next to me and sat down. 

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

Dean returned my smile, his eyes kind. “No problem. That looks pretty sore,” He told me, gesturing to my hand. 

I let out a pained laugh. “I didn’t think it would hurt so bad, honestly.”

“What happened?” He asked, picking up my dropped quill and setting it in my ink well. 

“Oh, um, I’m just super clumsy and I fell weird last night. Madam Pomfrey said it should heal rather quickly,” I answered, trying my best to sell the fib. I didn’t want to lie to Dean; he had always been very kind to me, but I’d rather not admit that I punched a wall because Draco Malfoy let me after we made out for the first time. 

A knowing look glinted in his eyes, as if he had caught my lie, but he didn’t press me any further. “What are we writing about?” 

\----------

My little impromptu study date with Dean was a welcome bright spot in a rather long streak of terrible days, so when we left the library, I had a little smile in my eyes. Dean had written practically my entire paper, with me dictating to him what I wanted to say. The paper had been for Herbology, and I wasn’t the brightest in the subject, so Dean guided me through parts I didn’t quite understand. He and I had never been close, but he was one of those people that would always greet you if you looked a bit down, even if you weren’t friends with him. 

“Thank you again,” I told Dean, shouldering my bag. “You have no idea how much you just helped me out.”

Dean smiled and shrugged. “No big deal, Elaine. Just glad I could be of service,” He joked softly. “You honestly looked like you were having a bit of a bad day.”

I sighed slowly. “Yeah, you could definitely say that.”

“Well, if you ever need more help, or really anything at all, please let me know. I had fun with you,” Dean said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Or, you know, if you even just wanted to hang out ever. There’s a little party one of my friends is throwing tonight, and I’d love for you to come. I think it would cheer you up a bit.”

Though it had been a terrible two days, I found myself wanting to accept his offer, so I did, a bit excited about maybe having some fun, letting some stress out. “I’d love to.”

Dean’s face brightened as I answered. “Wicked! It’s in an empty classroom on the third floor, y’know the big one by the painting of that creepy troll?”

I nodded, recalling that that was sometimes a hang-out spot of some of the other students in my year. 

“It’s there at nine, and you have to do this weird knock so that the door will let you in,” Dean explained, and demonstrated the knock. “It’s actually a rather brilliant bit of magic, in my opinion. Pretty sure it was the work of one of the Weasley twins.”

That made me let out a light giggle. That definitely did not surprise me at all, knowing Fred and George. As wild as they may have been, the two of them were wicked smart when it came to a lot of magic. Mrs. Weasley continuously nagged them about how they needed to apply themselves in school, but after their grand exit last year, I was confident that, as they claimed, their talents did indeed lie elsewhere. 

“And just show up in whatever you’d like,” Dean added. “It’s nothing formal, just a bit of fun.”

“Sounds wonderful, and thank you for everything, Dean. I’ll see you later!” I told him, and he waved goodbye as we went our separate ways, the school day having just finished.

Joining the rushing crowd of students heading to their dorms after a long week, I made my way to the Ravenclaw tower, the amount of students thinning out as I neared closer. I figured I had about four or so hours before I even needed to start getting ready, but I had no clue what to do with all my extra time until then. As I rounded a corner, I felt a hand grab the strap of my bag and yank me back, making me gasp in surprise. My stomach sunk as soon as his cologne hit me; I don’t think, for the rest of my life, that I’d be able to get that particular scent out of my head. 

Malfoy’s statuesque face whirled into view as he turned me around, the hallway around us vacant. My heart pounded dangerously fast in my chest, and it felt hard to swallow as I looked up at him. Subconsciously, I tucked my injured hand behind my back, not wanting him to see how him leaving had affected me the night before. 

“Where the fuck were you?” Malfoy demanded, his grip still tight on the strap of my bookbag, as if he were afraid I was going to run away, which did sound rather appealing right now. My back was to the empty hallway behind me, making me feel incredibly exposed even though it was just the two of us there. 

I swallowed. “When?” I asked, sounding stupid even to my own ears. 

“During Potions, you damn idiot,” Malfoy clarified, and I kicked myself mentally, though it rather surprised me that he had noticed my absence. 

“None of your business,” I told him, because it wasn’t, and I didn’t want to go into the fact that I had been too scared to show up. 

Malfoy’s face tightened, and he blew air out of his nose, clearly aggravated. “Yes it is, Adler. Where were you?”

“No, it isn’t, Malfoy,” I replied, trying to free my bag from his grasp by tugging the strap gently.. “I don’t see why you care, anyways.” 

Malfoy wouldn’t let go, and I felt exasperation rise in my chest. His face was blank, entirely unreadable, but his eyes were scanning mine as though they held some sort of hidden truth that he desperately wanted to know. 

“Just tell me,” Malfoy demanded, his voice low, yet still full of insistence. “You never skip classes. You’re too much of a teacher’s pet for that.”

“I am not a teacher’s pet,” I argued back, giving up on prying his hand from my bag. “And I’ve skipped before, but your head was probably just too far up your own ass to notice, you prick.” It wasn’t entirely a lie; I _had_ skipped before, but only once, and I found that it really wasn’t fun enough to risk doing it again. 

Malfoy glared at me, and then his gaze drifted down to the arm I was holding behind my back. “You know, you’re fucking unbearable. I asked you a simple question, and you still insist on being stubborn, like always.” 

“Me? Stubborn?” I asked. “I don’t know why you think you have some sort of right to know where I was, but you don’t, Malfoy. You’ve made it pretty damn clear you don’t give two shits whether I’m around or not.” 

I left out any mention of last night, but I’d have to be incredibly thick not to notice the way last night hung in the air between the two of us, like a storm cloud over a restless sea. Malfoy’s confession rose to the surface of my mind for the first time since he had blurted out his feelings, and my face reddened at the memory. 

“What are you thinking about?” Malfoy inquired suddenly. 

“What? Nothing,” I lied, looking down at the nail beds of my undamaged hand, suddenly finding the ruined cuticles there very interesting. 

Malfoy let out a snort. “You’re a shit liar. You always have been. Why can’t you just answer a simple question?” He asked once more as he tugged me closer by the strap of my bookbag. My steps stumbled as he did, and I nearly tripped over the corner of an uneven stone on the floor due to the sudden jostling moving. 

Malfoy’s other hand shot out and grabbed my upper arm, steadying me. I righted myself, completely fine, but Malfoy’s hand stayed on my arm, his grip softer than I would’ve expected. 

“Are you going to tell me, or do I have to keep you here until you do?” Malfoy asked. 

I rolled my eyes. “Piss off, Malfoy. I don’t have any interest in dealing with you today. You honestly can’t guess why I skipped Potions?” I was getting very fed up with him very quickly, and I was so confused as to why he cared so damn much about where I had been. My mind began suggesting that maybe, just maybe, last night had changed things, but I cut that thought down nearly as quickly as it appeared. There was no way that a simple kiss would change Malfoy; I wasn’t even sure if _anything_ could.

“What, are you suddenly afraid of me or something?” He demanded. 

I shook my head. “Dealing with you is always exhausting, but after last night?” I shrugged his hand off my upper arm and brushed my wild hair out of my face. “You honestly think I’d want to be around you after you just ran off like that?” 

Malfoy’s face stayed annoyingly unreadable as he thought for a moment. “I didn’t run off,” He said, a sharp, angry edge creeping into his voice. 

I let out an amused laugh. “Yes, actually, you did. Because you’re a coward, and you know, deep down, that that’s true. You’re a damn coward, Draco, and I’m so sick of being on the receiving end of your shitty actions because of it. I do nothing but try and stay out of your way, and still, you find any excuse possible to target your rage and inability to properly deal with your emotions onto me. You’re a coward, and you’re a child.”

It was the first time I had ever used his first name, and Malfoy’s face actually flashed with shock before he smoothed it out to his usual stony front. It had felt odd to call him that after so many years of only calling him by his surname, but it had actually gotten through to him. 

“I’m not a coward,” He seethed, gripping my arm tighter and making me wince. “I am not a fucking coward. Don’t you dare call me that.”

“Or what?” I shot back. “You’ll hurt me? You’ll tell your father? Fine, go ahead. Prove everyone right about you. Prove _me_ right, because that would mean you really were a coward.” 

His fingers were digging into the tender flesh on my upper arm, and I wanted to pull it away, but I didn’t want to do anything that would make him think he could actually affect me. I met his gaze, as terrifying as it was, and I didn’t look away, not even when I could practically see how much he hated me. 

“You’re the most aggravating, idiotic, dimwitted person I have ever met,” Malfoy snarled. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I don’t run to my father for everything, and I only hurt people if they deserve it.” 

My eyes widened in shock. “And somehow, I deserve it? What the hell did I do to deserve the bruises you left on my legs last night, or the bruises you’re leaving on my arm right now? What did I do, Malfoy?” I demanded, a sick feeling in my stomach as I waited for his answer. 

“You annoy me, and constantly are in my head, and you do that goddamn thing with your lip when you’re nervous,” He began, looking down to where I was, in fact, chewing on the inside of my lower lip like I had been for years. There was an amass of scar tissue there to prove it. 

“And you fucking drive me insane with your pretend innocence and your obliviousness and sometimes you make me so angry, I--” He ranted, taking in heavy breaths as he spoke. “I don’t know whether I want to hit you or kiss you.” 

Somehow, that being the second admission of feelings from him in as many days didn’t make it any less shocking than the first. I felt the blood drain out of my face. Hearing just how much I lived in his head, even if I wasn’t around, was something I had never expected. I searched for anything to say, but my mind was blank once again. I hated the way that he had been able to render me speechless so much lately; it was like he made me lose every sensible notion the moment he opened his mouth. The fact that he did feel the inclination to hit me, however, was not lost in the surprise, and I tore my arm away from his tight grip, choosing to drop my bag over my other arm onto the ground instead to get away from him. 

“Hit me?” I asked, appalled. He had never actually hit me, and up until this year, he had never even deigned to touch me, always making remarks about how filthy I was because I was a Muggle-born. “You know what, Harry was right. You need to stay the hell away from me, Malfoy.”

“I said I wanted to, not that I would,” Malfoy defended, making me roll my eyes. “You know that I would never actually hit y--anyone. And what the hell do you mean, Potter was right?” 

I glared at him. “I _mean_ , that Harry knows what happened between us last night because you were stupid and left a huge fucking bruise on my neck, and he warned me to stay away from you because you would end up hurting me. I thought he was just being a dick, but it seems like he knows you better than I do.” I tugged down the collar of my shirt, exposing the red mark that marred my skin. 

Malfoy’s eyes traveled over it, taking more than a few seconds before he spoke again. “You fucking told him?”

“No, you absolute asshole, he figured it out. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together; I didn’t have the bruise when we were saving your sorry ass, you made him leave, and the next morning, I had it. Doesn’t take a fucking genius to figure that one out.” I shoved my collar back over the humiliating reminder of last night, wanting to forget about it as soon as I could.

“You could’ve hooked up with anyone after he left. I told you not to tell anyone,” He growled, erasing the space between us and making me step back as he approached. 

I ran my hand through my hair, anger and rage and bitterness and fire coursing through me. “And I didn’t, you dick. You think I’m proud that I made out with a boy who hates me, who thinks I’m worth nothing, and got left by him immediately after? Because I’m not. I’m fucking ashamed, Malfoy. I hate that it happened, and I hope it never happens again.” 

_Liar._

Actual hurt pricked Malfoy’s eyes as my words hit him, and I felt proud. Good. They should hurt; I _wanted_ them to hurt, because I was tired of this continuously unbalanced dynamic where he takes everything out on me and I just stand there and take it. 

“I don’t believe you,” Malfoy replied, his voice low and rough. “Like I said, you’re a shitty liar. I can see right through you.” 

My breath caught in my throat. “You don’t know a damn thing. If you ever touch me again, I swear to God, I’ll curse you so hard you can’t walk for a week,” I threatened, trying to force as much power as I could into my voice. 

Malfoy stepped forward once more, and I hit an outcropping in the wall behind me. Anxiety began whirling in my stomach and I tried to look anywhere besides Malfoy’s stupidly elegant, cold face. 

“Tell me,” He began, close enough that I could reach out and touch him, but not so close that he could trap me in. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that you didn’t enjoy what we did last night. Tell me that you hated my hands and mouth on you, tell me that you hated the way your body reacted.” His eyes traveled the length of my body, stopping at the curves of my chest and hips, his hands tucked into his robe pockets.

I gulped, and I forced myself to meet his silver eyes, the dim corridor lighting making them shine in an otherworldly sort of way. “I hated it,” I said weakly, and I wanted to scream at myself because it sounded so fucking unconvincing, and I couldn’t bring myself to make it sound any more real, because...fuck. 

Because I had enjoyed kissing him, and I had never hated myself more for anything in my entire life. I had enjoyed the feel of his hands heating my skin, of his mouth pressing warm kisses to mine, of his arousal pressed between my hips. 

“I don’t believe you,” He whispered. 

“I--” I stammered. “Malfoy--” 

“Look at me, without turning away, without blinking, and tell me that you hate me and want me to stay away, and if you mean it, I will,” Malfoy pressed on, his eyes searching my face. “I swear, I’ll never talk to you again if you can honestly tell me that you despise me.” 

I did, god, I _hated_ him, more than anything, but even as I thought the words they sounded pathetic and weak. I didn’t understand what the hell had happened, because I had hated him with every fiber of my being, but I felt this stupid, horrible, unyielding tug in my chest every time I saw him in the past four months, and it hadn’t gone away, not even when I had been with Harry. 

“I don’t hate you,” I admitted weakly, flexing my injured hand to give me some sort of clarity with the pain. Malfoy’s eyes lit up with a dangerous excitement, but I continued. “But I want to. I have to. You--you don’t give a shit about me, and I know that. You have Pansy, and even if we weren’t...what we’ve been since we’ve met, I have no interest in being someone’s second choice or fleeting amusement until they’re ready to settle down with the person they actually want again. I’m not some toy you can play with when you’re bored like all the other girls you’ve ever been with. I don’t even believe that you don’t have some ulterior motive, that this isn’t just another one of your nasty ruses to humiliate me.” 

“It’s none of Pansy’s damn business what I do, and--”

“And nothing,” I interjected, stepping to the side so that Malfoy wasn’t cornering me against a solid wall. “You and I both know that this was a stupid, one-time thing. I haven’t the slightest doubt that tomorrow, you’ll be your same mean, bigoted self.”

Malfoy’s face hardened, and he put more space between us, giving me room to step forward and grab my bag that was behind him. I reached out with my injured hand, letting out a curse as I forgot and wrapped it around the straps of my bag, pain ricocheting through my limb. 

“You didn’t say you wanted me to leave you alone,” Malfoy pointed out as I recovered, his voice smug. 

“Yes, I-” I started, but Malfoy turned quickly, walking off and leaving me before I could begin to tell him that I wanted him to leave me alone more desperately than anything in the entire world. 

I couldn’t admit to myself that I was relieved that he had. 

Shaking off the usual jitters that lingered after any conversation with Malfoy, the remaining hours until the party were spent getting bits of reading done and readying myself. Dean had said it was merely a casual gathering, but I still wanted to look nice, if not for any reason other than looking nice. 

Cho helped me arrange my hair in a low bun with hair pulled loose to gently frame my face, and I discarded my school uniform in favor of simple jeans and a cozy blue button-up cardigan who’s sleeves reached past halfway down my hands. The night sky outside my window was inky black and twinkling with pinpricks of starlight, and Cho suggested I get moving so that I’d not be too late. 

I struggled to remember exactly how to get to the right classroom from the Ravenclaw tower, but eventually I found my way to the rather gruesome portrait of the troll that hung across from the door. Knocking on the door, I heard a light click, and it pulled open, revealing Dean’s grinning face. 

“Elaine! So glad you’re here,” Dean said, gesturing for me to come in, a cup in his hand. 

“Me too,” I said, smiling. “It’s been a shit week. I definitely need some stress relief.”

Dean’s eyes glinted, and he led me to a table that had an incredibly wide spread of various alcohols and juices. “What’s your poison?” 

My eyes scanned the lineup, seeing both hard liquors and softer beers. I hadn’t had much experience with drinking, mostly because seeing what it did to my father had always caused me to be very cautious with it, but I figured that maybe tonight was the night to see what I really liked. “Surprise me.”

A grin erupted on his face, and Dean set his own drink down, grabbing a white bottle and a container of orange juice, pouring them together into a cup for me. “It’s not super strong, but it tastes really good. Perfect for a novice!”

I thanked him and lifted the cup to my mouth, the liquid passing through my lips. The taste on my tongue was sweet, but cut with a bit of a sour fire as the alcohol registered on my tastebuds. I hummed, pleased with the drink, and took another swig, looking around at the other people in the room. I spotted quite a few people that I knew, like Seamus, Cedric, Ron, Lavender Brown, the Patil twins, and a spattering of Slytherins. 

Dean invited me to come over and sit with him, Seamus, and a Gryffindor who’s name I couldn’t quite recall. I hesitated as Dean plopped down in a wide, plush armchair, unsure of where to sit, but he patted the arm of the chair, so I took my seat beside him, balancing on the rounded surface. His arm slung around my waist to stabilize me, and the heat of him arm against my lower waist made me shiver. 

“Elaine, right?” Seamus asked, and I nodded my confirmation. “You’re one hell of a flier, you know that? Makes some of the other Chasers here look downright childish compared to you.” 

I blushed, not used to compliments about my Quidditch skills. “Thank you! It’s something I’ve always really loved.”

Dean spoke up. “You should see how wicked smart she is too. Helped her with an essay earlier and I could barely keep up as she told me what to write.”

“I’m alright. It’s mostly just because I read so often, y’know?” I explained, focusing my attention on my drink swirling in my cup, and I took another large mouthful. 

“So, what did happen with your hand?” Dean asked, motioning to the bandaged hand that rested in my lap. 

“Oh, nothing, really. I accidentally hit something and I guess I hit it just right and broke just some small bones in my hand. Madam Pomfrey said I’m probably okay to take off the wrapping tomorrow,” I said, and Seamus whistled. 

“Bit of a temper?” He teased, and I rolled my eyes, the alcohol beginning to hit my system and relax me a bit. 

“Something like that,” I acquiesced. 

Seamus and Dean began talking about some strange band they were both into, and I sat quietly, nursing my drink and finding that I did quite enjoy the way the liquor seemed to make my senses go a bit fuzzy around the edges. Dean had begun tracing slow circles on my back where his thumb rested, and I hummed with contentment, enjoying the casual affection. There was low music playing, something with a relaxed baseline, and I swayed softly to the beat.

Going to take another sip from my cup, I frowned as I realized it was empty, and I turned to Dean, who was still talking to Seamus. “Dean?”

Dean turned towards me, his eyes bright with mild intoxication. “You out already?” 

I nodded softly, and he smiled. “C’mon, let’s go get you another drink.” 

Standing up, the world began to tilt a bit before Dean pressed a light hand to the small of my back, anchoring me, and I giggled softly at myself. “Sorry,” I said meekly. 

“Here," Dean said, moving behind me, placing both hands on my hips. "I've got you." 

He guided me to the table with all the drinks, weaving in between groups of people talking and dancing, and I felt a comforting warmth in my head as my drink continued to affect me. His hands were warm against my skin, and his hips brushed against me more than once as we walked, making heat pool in my core. Taking my cup gently out my hand, Dean poured me another drink, this time with noticeably less alcohol, making me frown slightly as he gave me my drink back.

“Just being safe, Elaine,” Dean told me, looking at me kindly. “I don’t know how well you can handle your liquor and I wouldn’t want you to get yourself into any trouble tonight.”

“You,” I began, sighed. “Are so _nice_ , you know that? Much nicer than other boys here,” I said, taking a sip of my drink, which was much sweeter this time. 

Dean blushed, and he scratched the back of his head. “Just looking out for you, that’s all. You seemed a bit upset in the library earlier.”

I sighed again, setting down my cup. “You have no idea. It just feels like everything is changing, and I am so _sick_ of the way that Harry’s been treating me, and Malfoy, and everyone else.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Harry’s been just a huge dickhead to me lately and telling me that I’m just this terrible person for wanting to _help_ someone, and Malfoy’s just so confusing and…” I sighed, my brain foggy. 

Dean looked at me, a soft smile in his eyes. “Well, I’m not entirely sure of the whole situation with Harry, or the one with Malfoy, but you definitely aren’t terrible. You’ve got one of the best personalities I know. Boys can be stupid, and you don’t deserve that. You just gotta brush it off.” His hand curved around my torso to rest on my lower back again, tentatively, as if he were nervous. He nudged me closer, and I readily complied. 

I shrugged, moving slightly to press into his touch more. “I just am so tired of being someone’s second choice,” I told him, my words slurring slightly, and I was faintly aware that I was rambling and that Dean probably didn’t want to hear all this, but it felt too nice to get everything off my chest to stop it. “I don’t get why, I guess.”

Dean chewed his lip, thinking of his answer. “I think that you are far too pretty to be someone’s second choice,” He told me, his voice soft. 

My face heated and I looked at him, shocked. “Really?” 

He let out a kind laugh. “Absolutely. You are...well, you’re beautiful, honestly. I know we don’t know each other as well as you know some of the other Gryffindors, but I’ve always thought you were lovely.” Dean reached out a hand to move a piece of hair that had fallen in front of my face, and I leaned into his touch, encouraged by the drinks in my system. 

“Why, thank you, Dean Thomas. You are... very pretty, too” I slurred, in a terrible attempt at drunken flirting. A faint sense of embarrassment arose, but Dean seemed endeared by it, and I moved closer, having to crane my neck a bit to look up at him, splaying my hands out on his toned chest. 

“Wow, you’re tall,” I thought out loud, making a deep laugh rumble in his chest. 

"And you are absolutely adorable," He said. Dean began to lean down, his gaze bouncing to my mouth and back up to my eyes, and my heart raced with anticipation as I could feel his breath on my face, but he was suddenly yanked back roughly, making him shout in surprise. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Malfoy asked him angrily, appearing from behind Dean’s tall form. He was in dark pants and a button-up, his clothes comfortable, casual, yet still obviously expensive. His eyes were burning with fury, and he was looking at Dean as if he had just been about to kill me. 

“What the hell, man?” Dean exclaimed, righting himself. 

Malfoy glared at him. “You need to get off her. What, were you about to kiss her or something?” 

My face heated and through my drunken haze, I could see how angry and tense Malfoy looked. 

“Maybe I was, but it’s none of your business,” Dean answered. “Who even invited you anyways?” 

Malfoy scoffed. “I don’t need a damn invite, Thomas. Lucky for Elaine, I found out about it and thought I’d check it out. It’s horrifically lame, by the way. Pisspoor excuse for a party.”

“What do you mean, lucky for Elaine?” I interjected, my words garbled slightly. 

“You can’t tell me you seriously wanted this imbecile to kiss you?” Malfoy questioned, looking at me with those stupidly intense eyes of his. 

“I did, actually. Why do you care who I kiss?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “I don’t, you idiot. It just seemed like you didn’t want Dean to kiss you.”

“Like you fucking know what I want,” I shot back, the fury in my words undermined by how sloppy they were. 

“I do, actually.”

Dean snorted. “Then why’d you just push me off of her like a damn madman? What, is Draco Malfoy actually capable of having human emotions?” 

Malfoy shot an angry glare at Dean, and I felt useless as the two of them argued. I tried to clear my head a bit so that I could speak without slurring my words, but I hadn’t had nearly enough water that day and the alcohol was sitting heavy in my stomach, making my head spin unevenly. 

“C’mon, we’re leaving,” Malfoy told me, grabbing my wrist, which I promptly yanked out of his grip. 

“What? No,” I retorted, whining as he grabbed my wrist again and tugged me after him. “I want to stay. Let me go!”

“She said she wanted to stay, asshole. Let go,” Dean defended, stepping in front of Malfoy, but he merely pushed him to the side and continued his stalk to the door. I shot an apologetic look back at Dean as Malfoy dragged me from the party, sad that I hadn’t gotten to kiss him. Dean looked rather furious, and I hoped that it wasn't at me, because I really didn't want to leave the party or him, but Malfoy was relentless as he stole me away from the only fun I had had all week. 

And I was angry, too, once the door shut behind us and we were in the dark, drafty corridor. I wrenched my arm out of Malfoy’s grasp, and he turned to me, letting me pull away. 

“What the hell?”


	24. Hazy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am SO excited about this chapter. like seriously. favorite chapter ive written so far, and my new editor, silverfiretoheaven, is just wonderful. please let me know what you guys think of this chapter! and make sure to check out sinners and serpents if you havent already! enjoy<3

“What do you mean, what the hell?” I asked, crossing my arms. “You’re the one who very rudely interrupted a very pleasant party. 

Malfoy scoffed. “I wouldn’t call whoring around a pleasant party. What, do you just attach yourself to any guy who will give you attention?” 

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business. You’ve made it very clear that you wouldn’t want to be caught dead with me, so why does it matter to you who I spend my time with?” 

“It doesn’t.” 

But the apprehension and disgust in Malfoy’s eyes told a different story. He clearly had some sort of objection to Dean and I kissing; his reaction had been incredibly indicative of that. 

**_Or maybe you just want to think that._ **

_Shut up._

In any case, I was rapidly becoming tired of his erratic behavior towards me. One moment he behaves as if simply being near me is enough to make him sick and the next he's causing a scene and staking a possessive claim! In public no less!

“Clearly, Malfoy, it does. What other reason could you have to drag me away in front of everybody? Not very subtle of you,” I retorted, glaring at him. “Why do you have to ruin everything? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Malfoy let out an unkind laugh. “You can’t tell me you actually wanted to kiss that idiot? He’s about as interesting as that Weasley git.” 

“At least he’s actually nice to me! At least he's actually willing to be seen with me in public!” I snapped. 

“Why would I _want_ to be seen with you? Don’t be fucking stupid, Adler,” Malfoy shot back. “I’ve made it very clear just how much you repulse me. It’s not my fault Dean has shitty taste in girls.”

That made me laugh, an actual, humorous laugh. “No asshole, you haven’t. You claim that I "repulse" you,” I said, mocking him, “that you hate me, but for some reason you insist on sticking your damn nose into my business and it seems to me like you can't get me out of your head. Or did the jealous episode you just had not happen?"

Gesturing to myself, I added, “And if Dean supposedly has shitty taste in girls what does that say about you, Malfoy? You think that anyone who isn’t a Pureblood isn’t worth shit, yet you were so eager to kiss me that night in the Room of Requirement that you could barely contain yourself.” 

The words left my mouth as embarrassment knotted in my stomach. To imply Malfoy always thought about me made it seem like I thought quite highly of myself, but I didn’t, not really. I just had so much frustration, anger and hurt pent up from all the times that Malfoy had hurled insults at me. Then it struck me. I finally had an excuse to let out all the things that had been flying around my mind since we had come back from Christmas. 

_Who hasn’t said things they didn’t mean while they were drunk?_

Everything I did tonight was because of the alcohol, nothing else. 

_Liar liar liar._

“You better watch your damn mouth,” Malfoy threatened, taking a step towards me. “Or-”

“Or what?” I challenged, swaying slightly as I stepped back from his approach. “Or fucking what, Malfoy? I am so fucking sick of you thinking you’ve got some sort of leverage over me. Don’t you see that I don’t care what you do to me? I’ve got so much shit on you that I could ruin your oh so precious reputation in two seconds. What would dear Daddy think of you then?”

Standing up as straight as I could to at least _try_ and look somewhat intimidating, I spoke again. “You’re so full of shit. I hate you.”

**_No you don't._ **

_Shut up!_

**_How's that denial working for you?_ **

Anger flashed in Malfoy’s eyes, and his jaw tensed as my words hit him. “No, you don’t.”

I huffed indignantly. “Yes I do. I hate you more than anything in this entire world.” I knew my words sounded childish and immature, but it was so hard to _think,_ to speak correctly. 

Because of the alcohol, obviously. 

**_Keep telling yourself that. Maybe you'll start believing it._ **

Malfoy shook his head. “And I’m the one full of shit?” He stared at me for a moment, silvery eyes scanning my face. “You don’t hate me, Adler.”

“Why are you trying to convince me that I don’t? It’s not as if me hating you isn’t the most reasonable reaction to the awful things you’ve said and done to me. What, can your stupid pride not take the fact that someone is rejecting you?” I was stumbling slightly over my words, and it made me more flustered than even Malfoy's proximity. 

I took a breath, trying to clear my mind of the drunken fog that was doing its best to suffocate me; but all that came was the smell of his unfairly intoxicating cologne. 

“You vapid, self-obsessed, prideful man. Dealing with you is the most frustrating, confusing and contradictory thing I’ve ever experienced.”

A small smirk tilted the corner of his mouth. “Confusing?”

I had half a mind to slap that annoying smirk off his face, but I restrained myself. “Yes, confusing. Are you deaf?”

The smug look on his face only grew as I confirmed his question. I hated how perfect he looked as his expression changed. He never seemed to look bad. Even during the two times I had saved his life. How fucking annoying. 

“Why would any of this be confusing?” He asked, as if he wasn’t the one making that way.

I huffed, increasingly annoyed and shook my head slightly, which made my vision swim slightly. “Because, you prick, you say these awful, hurtful things to me and you make me feel like shit. You make me seem stupid and even when I’m saving your life, you still don't let up! But somehow that doesn't seem to change anything! It doesn't change the fact that I-" 

I clamped my lips shut, the words finally catching up to me. Horribly aware even in my drunken state what I had nearly confessed. Judging by the smugness in Malfoy’s eyes, he was just as aware. 

“That you what?” He asked. His voice made a shiver ripple down my back. 

I shook my head, refusing to answer. As much bravado as the alcohol had given me, I would never, ever tell Malfoy how he made me feel. Not only would it give him immeasurable satisfaction, but if I admitted it out loud, that would make it real. 

And it couldn’t be real. This couldn’t happen. None of it. I had already sunk so low, and everytime he was around, I somehow did something even more shameful and reckless. Admitting that he made me feel any kind of positive feeling would be the most shameful thing I could ever do.

“That you _what?_ ” Malfoy asked again, impatience seeping into his voice. I merely gazed at him, taking in his pale, elegant face. I'd never truly looked so close. Or, really, I’d never _let_ myself look so close. I hadn’t let myself notice the way his pale eyelashes curled slightly, or the way he had the faintest spattering of freckles dancing across the bridge of his nose. Or even the way that, even with all his denial, the look in his eyes as he took me in was full of anything but hatred. Perhaps the alcohol allowed me to appreciate it. There was a slight color to his cheeks, and I wondered absently why he was blushing. 

“That nothing,” I stated, but even in my inhibited state the lie sounded pitiful. "I'm drunk. It doesn't matter anyway."

“I don’t believe you,” He murmured, once again moving forward and forcing me back into the wall. 

_Why am I not moving?_

**_You know why._ **

“I don’t care.”

“I know I make you feel something. You kissed me first. You have no room to talk,” Malfoy pointed out, and I couldn’t stop myself from turning away. 

“Well-”

“Well what, Adler? What half-assed lie are you going to make up to try and tell yourself that you don’t want me just as much as--” He hesitated, then spoke again. “That you don’t want me?”

“Like you’re not doing the same thing right now,” I accused, glaring at him. “It is so obvious you have a crush on me.” 

_Idiot. You fucking idiot._

Malfoy stared at me in disbelief. “You actually think _I like you_? Either you’re drunker than I thought, or you’re really that fucking daft. How could I ever like you?” He sneered, but it was forced, the usual mocking lilt lacking its venom.

Perhaps it was the drinks, perhaps it was stupidity or recklessness, but I couldn't stop myself from leaning forward, so close to Malfoy that I could feel his body heat radiating from him. 

“You don’t like me? Then prove it. Walk away right now and I’ll never bring any of this up again. Walk away right now, and I’ll forget everything you’ve ever said to me. I’ll forget how you feel about me, how you _told me_ you felt, and I’ll-I’ll forget that we both have saved each other’s lives. I’ll forget all of it.”

I _hated_ that I wanted him to stay. Hated him. Hated myself. Hated the dusty pink on the milky skin of his cheeks. Hated that my hands were itching to run through his silky hair, that I longed to feel his hot, angry kiss once more. 

And I hated that I didn’t want to forget any of it. Not even the sharp insults that he had thrown against me. I didn’t...I didn’t want to forget that maybe, just maybe, Draco Malfoy had some semblance of humanity in him. 

“It’s quite funny that you think me walking away from you wouldn’t be the easiest thing in the world,” Malfoy snapped, but still, he made no move to turn away nor step back from the wall where he'd trapped me.

“Then why aren’t you?” I challenged, clasping my hands behind me in a meager attempt to keep myself from touching him like my drunken brain so desperately wanted to. 

He said nothing, and I felt a sense of triumph in my chest. Yes, he had admitted his feelings for me in the Room of Requirement just a few nights before, but he had been angry, hateful; both toward himself and me. As if he would do anything in the world to change his feelings towards me. 

But now?

Now, I had given him an out. I had given him a chance to walk away from whatever messed up, backwards connection we had formed, and he _wasn’t taking the chance_. Just the thought of that set my heart racing.

He still hadn't spoken but was just glaring at me. I wasn't going to let this end without some definitive statement about where we stood. I brought my hand up, finger digging into his chest with each word. “Then. Why. Aren't. You. Leaving." Anxiety spiked through my drunken haze, because I knew that me touching him would do _something_. I just didn’t know if it would end in him hitting me or kissing me or running away entirely.

_He wouldn't hit me. Right?_

That seemed to break him out of whatever unresponsive state he had been in. He grabbed my wrist and slammed it against the wall behind me, effectively pinning me in place. I winced at the harshness, but did nothing to struggle against it. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Malfoy growled, his hand encircled so tightly around my wrist, I couldn’t move it even if I wanted to. 

And...I didn’t want to. 

**_Are you a masochist now?_ **

“What makes you think you're so special? Huh, Elaine?” Malfoy demanded, his eyes fiery and his use of my first name made me suck in a shocked breath. “You’re so damn insufferable. All I fucking want is to walk away from you and your bullshit. All I want is to forget you. Forget this. Don’t flatter yourself. I want this _gone_. You are not someone I want in my life and I wish that-that you would just disappear.” 

His words made my stomach sink with cold and wretched sadness. I didn’t want to believe his words. I didn’t want him to become another person that had gotten their use out of me and then left me behind. I didn’t want what he said to be true and maybe that’s why I pushed back.

“I don’t believe you,” I said, but my voice held notes of despair, more _pleading_ than argumentative. “You-you don’t want this gone. You would’ve left by now if you did.” 

But really, I was just trying to rationalize it to myself more than anything else. 

Silver eyes met mine, and I felt as if I were plummeting towards something I would never be able to come back from. The way the corridor's light lit his eyes seemed almost ominous, though I was not afraid, but entranced. I felt a flutter in my chest at this shared contact, small as it may be. Even drunk, I knew that hoping for anything besides a dysfunctional, confusing, fatally flawed half-relationship with _Draco Malfoy_ was horribly delusional at best. I didn’t even know if I wanted anything more than what we already had. But if those few stolen moments we shared were all I needed for him to take over my thoughts, and they had truly meant nothing like he insisted, then why couldn’t I get him out of my mind? 

Why couldn’t I stop reliving the feeling of his hands running, fiery and addicting, over my skin? Why could I still feel his lips and the deep ache that it caused? Why couldn’t I stop wondering about where he was or what he was doing? Why couldn’t I make myself believe that I wanted nothing to do with him? 

Questions raced through my head as Malfoy and I stared at one another. With every passing moment the air between us became thicker. More suffocating. More unbearable. I couldn’t read a single emotion on his face and I felt like I was reaching for something in the darkness. Like I was utterly lost. 

  
  


His hand around my wrist remained unmoving and as much as the stone was digging into my wrist, I pushed through the temporary discomfort to savor this closeness. It felt as though my throat was choked with all the words I longed to say to him; but I had no idea whether the words that would come out would be angry, or hurt, or sad, or if I would betray myself completely and confess to him how I felt. 

Because, I realized suddenly, I...hadn’t. Not really. 

“M-Malfoy,” I stammered, and a muscle in his jaw twitched at the use of his name. “I-I...Are you…” I took a shuddering breath, words jumbling in my mouth as I tried to speak. “Do you really want me gone?” I asked pathetically. _So fucking pathetically_. My voice was small, and I couldn’t even bring myself to look him in the eye. “Because if you do, p-please just let me go and I’ll leave and-and I’ll never bother you again. I’ll even ask Slughorn to move me and-”

“No.” 

The answer was so soft, so gentle that I barely heard it over my drunken, nervous stumbling. My heart was pounding so hard it was almost painful, and my hands had begun to shake with the anticipation that was racing through me. 

“N-no? No what?” I breathed, not sure that I hadn’t imagined it.

“No, I don’t want you gone,” Malfoy whispered, his voice low, almost...broken. “I don’t want you gone, Elaine.”

The hurt, the _pain_ in his voice tore a small hole in my chest. He sounded so vulnerable, so anguished by his admission. I wasn’t sure if I was happy that he didn’t want to push me away, or offended that it caused him such misery to admit it. 

“But you said-”

Malfoy sighed, a sorrowful, broken sound. “I _know_ what I said. I remember _everything_ that I’ve done and said to you. Everything, every single thing, that I have said or done to you constantly runs through my mind. I can’t figure out if I regret hurting you or if I wish I had hurt you more so that you would never even consider being this close to me.” 

He caught my eyes and I felt frozen by the emotion flooding his gaze. “You are the only person who’s ever made me regret or have second thoughts about anything I’ve done.”

_Oh._

Not exactly a declaration of love; no, I'd have been deranged to ever expect that from him. 

But. 

Someone like him, someone so prideful and arrogant. So sure of himself. Actually admitting that he _regretted_ his actions was...was nearly enough to make me question the shame I'd been feeling. 

“You are the only person who has ever had the mind to question me. I still haven’t decided if that makes you stupid or ridiculously stubborn; but it makes you _different_. Maybe that’s why I can’t get you out of my head. Maybe that’s why I…” Malfoy’s voice cracked, and the anticipation that coursed through me was enough to make me stop breathing. “Maybe that’s why I’m so…” 

He uncurled his fingers from my wrist, making it drop to my side. My heart dropped with it as he moved back, taking away his warmth, his smell and his touch. His face, normally unreadable and cold, was twisted with conflict. Lips pressed into a sharp line. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, wouldn’t even look at me and I felt the horrible, approaching feeling of loss. Like when you know you’re about to lose something, but you can’t do a damn thing about it. 

I couldn’t bear to let it end like this. Working up the courage to do what my mind had been screaming at me for, I told myself this was the last time. This was the last time I’d let him get so close. This was the last time he'd see me vulnerable.

I knew I was practically inviting him to hurt me, that none of this was _real_. There was no doubt that Malfoy would shatter me so completely that I might not ever come back from it. I knew he would never truly care about me, not in the way I had so desperately and shamefully longed for since the beginning; but I couldn’t find it in me to care enough to stop. There was something about Draco Malfoy that made me okay with being ruined. 

I didn’t let myself think about how those words made my heart crack as I grabbed the front of his sweater, pulled him towards me, and pressed a desperate, heart-shattering kiss to his soft, addicting mouth. 

There was no way I’d ever forget any detail of the events that followed. When our lips collided, it felt like I was hovering in and out of reality. In and out of Heaven. It felt as if I were coming home but entering unfamiliar, dangerous territory all the same. It felt like…

It felt like _Draco_. 

Being slightly impaired made me braver and more impulsive than I would ever consider being sober. Even if I knew a large part of me would regret this the morning after, a much larger part thanked the stars that this was the choice I'd made. If I hadn’t been drunk, I never would’ve kissed Draco again. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I honestly couldn’t find it in myself to stop as he returned my affection. 

His lips drank from me, pulling forth every secret I'd been denying. He drank like a man searching for water in a desert. I couldn't breathe, couldn't pull myself away and I didnt want to. All I wanted was-

"Hold me tighter." 

The world almost seemed to halt as his hands cupped my face and tugged me in. Draco’s touch was rough and fervent, nearly overwhelming. That didn’t matter though; I felt the same sense of sheer mania raging through me as his feverish lips moved against mine in a way that made my knees weak. 

The wintry feel of his hands pressing into my skin caused goosebumps to rise. I could feel every point of contact between us as if they were on fire. Draco’s hands cradling my face, his lithe chest pressing into me as it rose and fell with labored breath, his thigh that was slotted just the slightest bit between mine. All of it seemed ignited in the most perfectly addicting way possible. I couldn’t get enough of the feel of his bare skin on mine. I wanted more of it. I wanted it harder. I wanted it _lower._ I waited for his hands to move and for his kisses to follow, but his fingers never moved from my face. 

They never even _tried_ to, and the suspense nearly made me scream. Draco’s kiss made me ache with desire, with _need_ . Ache someplace deep down. _Deep inside_ . I knew that he felt the same because I could _feel_ it, his echoing lust pressing into my stomach. But aside from the desperation of his kiss, he showed no other sign of wanting anything more. It was enough to make me want to cry. Just when I thought that maybe...but maybe he was waiting for _me_ , I told myself. 

The thought alone made me overflow. That he could want me just as much filled me with one overpowering thought. 

_I need my clothes off. Now._

My hands flew to the buttons of my shirt, struggling, my fingers fumbling in their rush. Nothing drove me other than the need to bare my skin for him. No concern for being seen or for the supposed consequences. I didn't care about self betrayal with this act and I didnt care about Dean. I just wanted Draco. 

My attention was divided between undoing my clothes and pulling Draco closer. I ran my hands through the feathery hair at his nape, needing more of him. His hands finally moved from my face. I felt the fingers of one hand grip my throat and a whining moan sounded from me, so high was my excitement, as his other arm wound around my back. 

I brought my hands to his shirt, working in the little space between us. Time seemed to drag on and I just couldn't take it. I groaned with frustration, sick of waiting; I needed him, more than I’d ever needed anything. I could feel the muscles tensing and flexing beneath the thin material of his shirt as I hurried to undo the smooth buttons of his collared shirt.

This seemed to shock Draco out of his frenzy because he pulled back, causing me to freeze at his abrupt reaction. He shook his head. “You...no. We can’t.”

If I had been any less drunk, embarrassment would’ve crippled me, but instead I felt only disappointment, even with my clothes rumpled and half-undone. “What?" It was the only thing I could think to say. 

Draco sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. "Elaine, you’re drunk.”

“So?” I asked, furrowing my brow. Why did it suddenly matter so much?

“So,” He repeated, an edge of impatience lining his voice. “You don’t know what you’re doing. I-” Draco hesitated, squeezing his eyes shut as if he were clearing his head, trying to convince himself. “I don’t...I don’t want to be another terrible thing you associate with getting drunk like-like-” 

As muddled as my brain was, I still felt bewildered at his confession. I didn’t think he could be that conscious of how I felt. “I-what?”

He looked at me, clearly uncomfortable, though I didn’t know if it was a result of the situation or the topic at hand. “I shouldn’t have even kissed you back. I’m sorry. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Disappointment drowned my previously lust-filled haze and I couldn’t stop the dismay twisting my face as he spoke. 

_Of course he regrets kissing you. Don’t be daft._

“Oh,” I answered lamely, suddenly feeling much more sober and oddly bare. Like I had told a massive secret and been humiliated for it. “Sorry, then.”

It was odd, the mixture of lingering arousal and self-hatred that settled like a stone in my stomach. It made me feel far sicker than any alcohol could. What made me even more nauseous was the shame in Draco’s eyes. I was trying to convince myself that it wasn’t because of me, but that nasty, ever-present voice in the back of my mind whispered that he pushed me away because he couldn’t even bear the thought of. . . . us together like that.

Suddenly, I felt as if I was going to be sick and Draco stepped back, an unusual look of concern on his face. I noticed fleetingly that the porcelain skin of his chest was exposed between the white columns of his button-up, which reminded me that I was practically half-naked. Mortification shot through me and I bent down, frantically pulling the sides of my cardigan closed and redoing what buttons hadn't broken off. 

“I think you should go back to your dorm. Sleep,” Draco spoke softly, softer than I’d ever heard it. I knew that that tone would run through my mind on repeat for the next few days. I already hated myself for it. 

_Dismissal. Rejection._

“Yeah,” I mumbled, unable to look him in the eye. 

“And, uh…” He hesitated, sounding unsure. “Drink some water, okay?” 

I didn't even have the dignity to answer as I turned, leaving him behind. I hated that his words set hope loose in my stomach, making a beam of light cut through the misery of his rejection. The way that my brain had already latched onto those few kind words of his made me wince. How pathetic was I that the boy who hated me made me go weak in the knees with a few words of basic human empathy? I could see now why Draco found me so undesirable. I was entirely woefully pitiful.

What I didn’t see as I left, ashamed and still slightly intoxicated, was that his hands were clenched so tightly, his nails tore pinpricks of dark blood in his palms like it was all he could do to keep himself from reaching out and stopping me as I walked away. 


	25. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry this took so long to upload! life has been hectic and difficult, but this chapter is extra extra long so i hope that makes up for the delay. enjoy<3

The bleak mid-morning sun shone through my window as I lay in my bed, my body feeling heavy and drained of life. I couldn’t find the effort to even peel open my eyes as I heard the soft ambient sounds of my roommates getting ready for their weekends. A faint throbbing headache swelled behind my eyes, offering a momentary distraction before the events of the previous night began flooding my mind, accompanied by a horrible wave of bitter regret. 

The embarrassment was suffocating as I recalled the whorish way I had tried to undress not only myself, but Draco as well. I could still feel the grip of his hands in my hair, holding my face. I couldn't discern whether to race into the shower and scrub till my skin was raw and red or if I wanted to savor it until the very last traces were gone. 

God, I was  _ fucked _ . 

It wasn’t just the touching or the kissing or even the undressing that made my stomach churn with mortification. Nor was it the concrete rejection Draco had thrown at me so suddenly, though that did make my face heat with renewed shame. No, it was the way . . . I had given in to Draco. I had a chance to walk away from the confusing dance the two of us had begun to do during the past few months, and I  _ hadn’t _ . 

Neither had he.

I hated not knowing how I felt. At least, that’s what I told myself in a weak attempt to continue the lie I had been telling myself since...since the day I had slapped him in Potions. He had cornered me like a deadly snake with a mouse. As a result, hidden beneath the panic and fright, was a dim flame of attraction that had only burned brighter since.

I should’ve been sure of how I felt. I should’ve felt repulsion at the very  _ notion _ of longing for Draco in such an intimate way. It had been far easier to just dismiss anything that happened between us up until this point, but now? Now, I knew I couldn’t keep fooling myself. 

Now I knew why I hadn’t walked away last night, and I knew why he hadn’t either. As much as I wished it weren’t true, I knew the answer. I also knew that fate, or karma, or whoever it was that controlled my life was a twisted, sadistic bitch. 

Why else would I have feelings for…

I shook my head, pain ricocheting through my skull, to clear the thought from my mind. Self-denial, apparently, was something that I couldn’t shake so easily. Cho’s voice cut through my trainwreck of thoughts, making me finally pry open my tired, swollen eyes. 

“Rough night?”

I nodded slowly, staring at the ceiling with blank eyes. “You could say that.”

_ Understatement of my fucking life. _

Cho sat down on the side of the bed and I turned my gaze towards her. “I’m going down to Hogsmead with Hermione and Luna. Why don’t you come with us? We could have some girl time. Could be a good way to take your mind off things,” She offered, giving me a sympathetic smile.

I contemplated her suggestion for a moment, though really, it was only for show. There was no way I had any energy to be around people today, let alone hold a substantial conversation with anyone. Not with the way I felt. It was as if I was going to be sick every three seconds as glimpses of last night flickered through my mind like the world’s most humiliating slideshow. 

“I’ve got that essay on brooms for Flitwick’s class to work on. I’ve not even started it,” I told her, which was true, but I left out the part where all I wanted was to be left utterly alone to wallow in my self-hatred. 

Disappointment flashed in Cho’s warm brown eyes, but she just nodded with understanding. “Well, if you happen to change your mind…”

“I’ll let you know,” I said, flashing her as much of a smile as I could muster. It was nice, having her back, and I was glad that the childish fight we had hadn’t ruined our friendship.

Cho smiled at me again and patted my leg gently before standing up and heading down to breakfast. My stomach lurched with disdain, but I knew I should probably eat something soon. Maybe some water, too, to ease the throbbing that seemed to only worsen as I slowly sat up. 

Speaking of, I faintly recalled Draco telling me I should drink some. My breath hitched in my chest as I replayed the end of last night in my mind; Draco rejecting me, telling me that he didn’t want to be another reason I hated alcohol, then almost gently suggesting I have some water. 

Though my recollections were blurry behind the veil of intoxication, there was no doubt it had been real. Draco had actually...shown concern. Which sounded entirely foreign though I was  _ sure  _ I hadn't dreamed it. The concern was strange enough, but the message behind the concern was even stranger.

The thrum of sheer gratitude that coursed through me nearly brought me to tears. It wasn’t if I hadn’t known what I was doing last night; I had and I had enjoyed it. But to go that far with Draco, in that state, would’ve taken something from me. Something mentally that I wouldn't have come back from. He, for all his insensitivity towards the subject of my father, had somehow known that. He had known just how deeply that would’ve injured me. Somehow, he knew that becoming like that man was one of my greatest fears. Me acting under the influence, in any capacity, would've done just that.

And somehow, he had cared enough to make sure that I didn’t let myself fall into that dark pit full of the ever-looming threat that whispered to me that I could turn out like the man who had once been my best friend. 

Maybe it should have bothered me that he knew me so innately, but perhaps it made me think differently of him, just slightly. 

The room had emptied minutes ago, leaving me alone to get ready for the day. Rolling out of bed, my movements were sluggish as I changed, made my bed, and threw on an outfit that was barely beyond pajamas. It was an effort just searching for the motivation to endure the upcoming day. What little I did find wasn’t going to last, so I skipped breakfast and made my way up to the library. 

Flitwick had assigned a rather extensive essay on the magic surrounding brooms, and as much as I loved flying, charms had never been my strongest subject. I was hoping to be able to just half-ass it and that Flitwick wouldn’t grade too harshly. 

Between the snow that had fallen overnight and the ever-increasing amount of work professors had been assigning; the majority of eligible students were away at Hogsmeade,  p rocrastinating. The library, to my relief, was entirely deserted aside from Madam Pince; who was reading intently at her desk. I mumbled a soft greeting to her as I entered. She barely looked up at me, humming a response before returning to the story she had been avidly devouring before I entered. 

Finding the most secluded table possible, I sat my things down before wandering through the rows of books, hoping to find any information regarding my essay. The topic was one of the simplest subjects Flitwick had assigned this year so I quickly found a few dusty, leather-bound books that seemed helpful. 

After returning to my private corner and titling the yellowed piece of parchment, I flipped open the first volume I had picked out. My eyesight started to swim when seeing the small print on the page. I sighed, realizing I had forgotten to get water. My headache wasn’t the worst I’d ever had, not by a long shot, but my mouth felt full of cotton. I knew I wouldn’t be able to focus until I fixed myself. 

I pushed out of the chair, wooden legs scraping across the floor, and winced at the grating sound. The noise scratched viciously at the pain behind my eyes. Before I could stand up, I felt someone over my shoulder. 

“The Flying charm? Shouldn’t you have already learned that?” Draco drawled from behind, his voice causing me to tense, my hand tightening around my quill. 

_ Kill. Me. Now.  _

“Guess Flitwick wanted us to learn it again,” I mumbled, refusing to look over my shoulder. I didn’t want Draco to see the humiliation that tinted my cheeks as the heat from his body brought vivid feelings from last night slamming back into me. 

He hummed, but remained peering over my shoulder. I could feel his breath. 

I did my best to build a wall against his presence, but I couldn’t even get through a sentence without my thoughts darting to the smell of his cologne at my back. I found myself re-reading the same line three times before speaking again.

“Did you need something?” 

“Does it hurt your hand to write?”

My face blanked with confusion, but I still refused to look at him. “Um, not terribly,” I lied. It did, but letting Dean help me the day before had been hard enough. 

_ Shit. Dean. _

Draco cleared his throat, the sound making me grimace as my headache throbbed. 

“Does your head hurt?”

Annoyed by all the questions, I finally turned to face him. I caught the gasp that nearly left my mouth, but I couldn’t help the way that my heart sped up at the sight of him. He was wearing a suit of deepest black . Everything, from the shoes to the shirt to the tie. It hugged his broad shoulders, the muscles there still prevalent under the layering. The contrast against his marble-white skin and hair was sinful. Like white stars amid a black sky. It was reminiscent of a greek statue depicting the face of an ancient god.

I remember seeing one when I was little on a field trip to a museum when I was in primary school. The statue had made my mouth drop when I had first seen it. The cheekbones and nose had been so elegantly carved, every sinew of muscle created with masterful precision. I had marveled at the beauty of the work and told my teacher that I thought the man in the marble was very beautiful. She told me, rather sternly, that men couldn’t be beautiful. They were just  _ handsome _ . 

Looking at Draco now, his silver eyes studying me, it was impossible to agree with her. There was something so ethereal about how the suit fit his body. Something so decadent about the veins running under the skin of his hands. His long fingers . . . so elegant. I hardly needed to try imagining it; I could already feel them. Cool and firm, trailing . . . down . . . 

_ Stop. _

It wasn’t a new suit; I had seen it plenty during the course of the year, though, something was different this time. Maybe it was because he wasn’t berating me while wearing it this time. Maybe it was because I had a headache that was making my head spin slightly. 

Or maybe, it was because I had always been too arrogant, too  _ scared _ , to let myself really look at the bewitching dark prince who stood in front of me. 

“Uh, no,” I answered lamely, much too aware of the time that had passed since he asked the question. 

Draco’s brow quirked up, indicating that he didn’t believe me. Though he didn’t press the matter. I was suddenly conscious of the fact that he was standing in front of me, looking like a wicked god, and I—

I was wearing worn black sweats and a grey zip-up that probably smelled like sleep and sweat. 

_ Christ, I really am fucked if I care so much about what I'm wearing _ . 

I turned away from him, praying my face wasn’t colored with blush, but I knew that was a foolish hope. I just wanted him to leave so I could work on this essay, but apparently, things weren’t in my favor today. Or last night. Or ever.

Draco swung around the chair next to me, straddling it with his long, suit-clad legs. His arms rested on the back of the chair. I had to do my best to stuff down the little part of my brain that reminded me where those legs had been not even twelve hours ago. 

It was shocking, to say the least, that he was even willing to be seen with me during daylight. Perhaps it was the seclusion of my spot that made him more inclined to risk being around me so publicly. My muscles were so tense with apprehension that I felt I was going to break. The words in front of me were so incredibly  _ dull _ compared to the way that his slim fingers tapped softly on the wooden chair. His ring was clacking quietly against the hard surface, and though the sound was barely audible, it felt like thunder in my head. But I couldn’t very well just stare at his hands like a gawking idiot, so I forced myself to focus solely on the yellowing paper. Not that it did much. 

The way his fingers flexed sent fire coursing through me as I remembered how they had curled around my throat. Here I was, my mind drowning in the memory of his dastardly touch, and Draco was acting so _casual_. As if sitting in the library next to me while I worked was the most normal thing in the world. 

It irked me more than anything that he was so nonchalant .  Especially after last night ! As much as I wished otherwise, last night had changed things between us. At least a little bit. I knew how he felt now. I would’ve even if he hadn’t told me outright. He might as well have screamed it given how he'd dragged me away from Dean so quickly. 

_ Had-had last night not affected him as much as it did me? _

I realized that, once again, I wasn’t really reading any of the pages in front of me, and I shook my head, annoyed at my own flighty thought pattern. Dipping my quill into the black ink in front of me, I began scratching down information on the charm, though I could already tell this would be far from my best work. Flitwick was sure to ask why it was so poorly done, considering that I normally produced quite decent papers, but I would deal with that later. Usually, I took great pride in my writing ability and I wondered just how much Draco had messed with my head to where I barely cared at all.

“You know,” Draco spoke, and I nearly jumped, the low timbre of his voice rumbling through my skull. “For as much as you love Quidditch, I thought you’d know more about this. Guess I shouldn’t be too surprised though.” His voice wasn’t unkind, merely curious, but it still stung.

Irritation bit at my skin, and I didn’t look up as I responded. “What, because I’m a Muggleborn?"

Draco shrugged, his broad shoulders flexing beneath his expensive suit. “Just saying. You Muggles have so much to catch up on. Seeing as you’ve no idea we even exist until you get your letters. I’m surprised you get as good grades as you do.”

I furrowed my brow at his compliment. A backhanded one, sure, but...almost a compliment nonetheless. “I’ve always done well in school,” I said shortly. 

“ _ Always  _ is a bit of a stretch.”

I sighed angrily, slamming down my quill to face him, taking in the neutral look in his eyes. “Did you sit down with the sole purpose of annoying me, or do you just have nothing better to do?”

“Oh, I have plenty of things to do,” he replied, not truly answering my question. “You think being around you is my ideal way to spend the morning?” 

_ Then why the hell are you here? _

“Could you at least have the decency to be quiet while I’m working? I can’t think with you around,” I snapped, and his mouth tilted up in a miniscule smirk. Not that it showcased his arrogance and less. 

“Why’s that?” He asked innocently, the gleam in his eyes anything but. The silver of his ring glinted in the cloudy sunlight streaming through the window, and again I recalled the icy feeling of it pressing into my skin. 

I cursed myself internally. “I just...I just can't, okay,” I grumbled. 

“Tell me.” 

“No.”

“Tell me.”

“Can’t you just piss off?” I asked, anger sharpening my voice but Draco seemed unphased. 

I still wasn’t over the oddity of the whole situation. Draco had purposefully sat down and talked to me. Most of it wasn’t even unpleasant! Could last night really have…

_ No. Don’t be stupid. It doesn’t matter what he said.  _

It didn’t matter that the memory of his words urged me to reach out and press my lips to his. That he looked so much like a wickedly alluring god of death in his black suit. That made me wish he hadn't stopped me from undressing. 

It didn’t matter, but it  _ did. _ Everything he did mattered so much and I despised it with every fiber of my soul. 

It was so damn  _ exhausting _ to be at war with myself so constantly. 

“Don’t be rude, E-Adler” Draco snapped, making me blanch. “I’m just sitting here ‘til Pansy gets the book she needs.” 

_ Pansy _ .

How in all hell had I forgotten about Pansy? His precious little Pansy. Whom he actually  _ wouldn’t  _ be ashamed to be seen with in public. Pansy, who was…

**_Prettier? Smarter? A pureblood?_ **

“Won’t your little girlfriend be upset when she sees you sitting with me?” I shot back. “She already seems to hate me just because you fucking talk to me.”

“Trust me, Adler. That isn’t why she hates you,” he muttered. The answer piqued my curiosity but I didn’t dare ask what her reasoning was.

“I hate you because you’re fucking annoying and you look like shit,” Pansy’s nasally voice pierced the relativly calm air. Her pointed face wrinkled with disdain as she looked at me. “Honestly, how are you not embarrassed to be seen like that?”

Her expression crumpled with disgust as she took in my wrinkled clothes, my hair tied in a sloppy bun, and I had to stop myself from trying to cover up my plainness. Draco let out a snort and my stomach dropped. He stood up and sauntered over to Pansy, her face beaming at him as he moved away from me.

He swept Pansy up in an embrace, facing her away from me as I watched his strong arms wrap around her waist, his muscles flexing under the material of his suit as he moved. She giggled as she was lifted off her feet when he spun them. His eyes drilled into me as he leaned to place a passionate kiss on Pansy’s mouth as he set her on the ground.

Seeing Draco kiss her made me sick. The look in his eyes was so lofty, so  _ smug _ . My eyes started to burn and I knew tears would soon follow if I didn’t get out of that goddamn library. I couldn’t even describe the cracking in my chest; I just knew I had to get out because it felt like the walls were closing in on me, suffocating me. I tore my eyes away from Draco’s and hurriedly gathered my things. Leaving the books splayed out on the table. There was a twinge of guilt for not putting them away, but it was overwhelmed quickly by...not jealousy, but  _ something _ . 

It wasn’t jealousy that made my stomach sink as Pansy slid her hands up the broad planes of Draco’s chest. It wasn’t jealousy that made my vision burn red as he let out a soft sound of appreciation at her touch. 

It  _ wasn’t _ . 

The barrage of horrible names I called myself in my head for believing that anything had changed would have made the most seasoned sailor uneasy. With all my parchment in hand, I ducked past the pair, willing that the tears wouldn’t flow until I was safe and secluded. I could hear snickering behind me as I left, but I didn't want to see who it was from. 

Finally reaching the door, I stepped out only to collide with a solid warmth that sent me sprawling to the ground. That was the final straw and hot tears trailed down my cheeks as I gathered what had spilled from my arms.

“Elaine, I’m so sorry!" It was Harry's voice. 

_ Of course. Of course it was Harry, because this day wasn’t bad enough already _ .

“It’s fine,” I mumbled quietly, ignoring the hand he held out. I stood, trying to discreetly wipe the wetness from my face.

“I was actually just coming up here to look for you. Cho told me you might be here.”

“Really,” I said quietly as I brushed myself off. 

“So do you want to tell me why someone told me they saw Malfoy drag you out of Seamus’ party last night and why they saw you after that with half your clothes hanging off stumbling back to your dormitory?” Harry said, his words stern and angry. “Because I know damn well what exactly that sounds like to me.”

The tears that had spilled over stopped stinging my eyes as shock took over. "And why is that any of your business?” 

“Yes, Potter, please enlighten us,” Draco cut in as he walked out of the library, his arm slung around Pansy. 

I winced at his voice. Why did Draco always have to show up at the worst time possible? Why couldn’t he stay away and not make everything worse? Even if Harry had suspected anything, Draco wouldn’t have cared a single bit. He hadn’t in the past.

“You told me you were studying last night,” Pansy accused, and Draco shot a look at her that immediately shut her up. 

“ _ Because _ , Elaine,” Harry continued, ignoring the two, "I think that he hurt you.” 

_ He couldn’t mean… _

"Just how exactly are you suggesting I hurt her?” Malfoy interjected, making Harry send him a furious glare. “Because as I recall, you were the one that fucked her and then left.”

My entire body flushed with mortification. I didn’t even know that he knew about  _ that _ , much less  _ how. _ Harry glanced at me with hurt in his eyes, like I had been the one to betray him. 

“How do you-,” but Draco wasn’t finished.

“Weren’t you her first as well? Pretty shitty of you to do that, Potter. Even I wouldn’t pull something like that.” he quipped. 

I didn’t think that was true but I had to give it to Draco; he knew exactly how to press Harry’s buttons, and that’s exactly what he did. 

Harry gritted his teeth. “That is none of your damn business, Malfoy! Just because Elaine likes to run her mouth--”

“What? I didn’t say anything about that to him!” I interrupted, looking at Harry with disbelief. 

“Why wouldn’t you? The two of you seem rather close now,” Harry accused, scowling as he glanced between the two of us. 

Since Draco was behind, I couldn’t see the expression on his face, but his words were dismissive and hard. “No, we aren’t.” 

I hated how sharp three words could feel. 

“Guess you aren’t the perfect hero everyone makes you out to be,” Draco sneered at Harry as he stepped forward, leaving Pansy behind. “I guess even Dumbledore’s precious little Potter makes mistakes sometimes.”

Harry’s face reddened and he met Draco’s steps, now standing nearly toe to toe with him. “Like you have room to talk. You're just your fathers pet.” 

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed, the only hint that he even registered Harry’s comment. “At least I have a father who’s alive, you unwanted piece of shit.”

“At least I’m not a piece of shit who forces himself on girls who don’t want it,  _ Malfoy. _ You’re fucking disgusting.”

Draco, normally the perfect image of composed indifference, froze, rage tensing his form as what Harry was accusing him of sunk in. “Just  _ what _ are you accusing me of? I’ve never put my hands on Adler if she wasn’t begging for it, which she was last night.”

Shame tightened my throat and Pansy’s face was so red with anger she resembled a freshly picked tomato. I hated Draco in that moment, mostly because he wasn’t wrong. He made me seem whorish and desperate though, as if he wasn’t the one who had pulled me out of the party last night because Dean had been too close. Draco and Harry were locked in a fiery staredown that seemed like it would go on forever if someone didn’t do something. 

“I don’t believe you, you massive prick. I think that you hurt her and that she’s defending you because you’ve fucking messed with her head one too many times,” Harry growled. 

“Prove it.” 

Harry’s knuckles turned white, and I saw the rage that burned in his eyes before he swung, landing a heavy blow to Draco’s jaw. Draco, letting out a low grunt, fell back a few steps, his body swaying as he struggled to remain on his feet. Pansy and I gasped simultaneously, shocked by the sudden violence. 

He brought a pale hand up to rub the mark that was quickly forming. Pansy ran up to Draco, tugging on his arm, nearly in tears as she begged him to look at her, but Draco shrugged her off without a second thought. Pansy fell back dejectedly, sending me a piercing gaze that had me wondering what the hell I had done to get thrown into these situations so often. 

“Not a smart move, Potter. But I wouldn’t expect much else from such an uncivilized dickhead,” Draco growled, and Harry had the good sense to look apprehensive as Draco loomed over him. 

“What, too weak to fight back? Or did your daddy spend so much on that suit that he’ll beat you if you get it dirty?” Harry fired back, apparently not ready to back down. “Bet you know exactly what his punches feel like, don’t you?”

This time, Draco swung first. His hand collided with Harry’s cheekbone, making him stumble back a few steps before he recovered and launched himself at Draco. Harry swung wildly, hitting Draco’s nose, then his eye, before Draco landed a solid hit to his stomach, making Harry grunt with pain. I felt frozen in place, both by shock and by panic, as Draco placed a solid hit to Harry’s side, the sound of flesh hitting flesh dull but violent. 

The two were fighting as if their lives depended on it. Harry was sloppier, but more of his hits landed; Draco was more tactful, so the punches that  _ did _ land hit their mark hard enough to make Harry grunt with pain. I felt oddly helpless as I watched them. I couldn’t tell which boy my heart was breaking for as each took blows that would certainly leave marks for days. 

Pansy was practically hyperventilating as she kept calling out to Draco, pleading with him to stop, but I knew that the two of them wouldn’t stop for almost anything. They had six years of pent-up rage, and I suspected that fighting over, or  _ about _ , me was just an excuse to let it out. Neither of them could possibly care so much about me that they’d be willing to get hit, and neither of the two were holding anything back. 

Harry was breathing heavily, a trickle of bright blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, and Draco, his silver eyes glinting with unbridled rage, had scarlet dribbling from his nose and a small laceration about his left eyebrow. There was a slight lull in the fight, as if they were catching their breath, before Harry went to hit Draco again. Draco ducked under Harry’s arching fist and came up on his left side, smashing a hand across his nose. 

My heart was pounding wildly, and I was genuinely afraid that the two of them might actually kill each other if they weren’t stopped soon. Knowing that I was insanely stupid for what I was about to do, I steeled myself. Seeing Harry pull back for another blow, I flung myself between the two bloodied boys, shouting at them. 

“Please, stop!”

Draco froze immediately as I interjected myself, but Harry’s windup had already begun releasing its power, and his fist sailed towards me. I didn’t have enough time to do anything but flinch as his blow slammed into my arm that I flung up to protect myself. The hit wasn’t as hard as it would’ve been because Harry had just begun to catch himself, but the momentum still made my skin sting where he had hit me. My skin throbbed almost instantly as I stumbled back a few steps. I looked up at Harry, whose face was gaunt with immediate regret.

“Shit, Elaine, I’m--”

“I’m fine,” I assured him, but my voice was a bit strained as I tried to push down the tears welling in my eyes. 

It wasn’t that it  _ hurt _ ; it hadn’t really. It was just sheer shock that Harry had hit me, even on accident. I turned to Draco, glancing over his face to see the extent of the damage Harry had inflicted. His nose was red with crimson liquid now steadily pouring from one nostril, dripping over his plush lips in a violent imitation of a waterfall. The cut above his brow wasn’t bleeding as much anymore, but he had a swelling bruise blossoming on his sharp jawline. His hair was slightly disheveled, and his suit was a bit askew, but he was relatively okay.

Harry still had blood leaking from the corner of his mouth, and he had purpling marks appearing on both his cheekbone and his eye. He was still panting with fury, his fists clenched as if he was having to physically stop himself from going after Draco again. 

He turned to me, his eyes shining with adrenaline. “See? Is this really the kind of person you want to be spending time with?” 

Draco snorted, somehow still looking haughty and impossibly regal after such a harsh fight. “You were the one who swung first, you fucking dimwit. I was only protecting myself.”

“Come on, Elaine. Just--just admit you’re spending time with him to make me mad, and we can just be friends again. You know I didn’t mean to hurt you, with Ginny or-or just now. You don’t have to punish yourself because I fell in love with Ginny.” 

I stared at Harry, my mouth dropping open with incredulous disbelief. “Excuse me? You think that I’m doing all this to get your attention? To make you mad? My god, Potter, you really are full of yourself.”

“No, that’s--”

“No, that’s exactly what you meant,” I told him. “You think that I am so damn heartbroken over you that I would get with any guy I could just to make  _ you  _ jealous. That’s fucking bullshit, Potter. Do you really think your opinion matters to me anymore after all the shit you’ve said to me lately? You used to be my best friend, and you completely fucking bailed on me after I kissed Malfoy  _ once _ , and it didn’t even mean anything.”

_ Liar, liar _ . 

I was so  _ angry _ at Harry, I realized. Angry about Ginny, about leaving me, about not being there for me when I truly needed him the most. Maybe...maybe all of my decisions with Draco had been because, deep down, I had been upset at Harry.

_ Or maybe I was just doing whatever I damn well pleased.  _

“Elaine, you can’t possibly tell me that you  _ like _ being around Malfoy. Why the hell are you defending him?” Harry demanded, wiping away the blood from his mouth. 

I noticed Draco looking at me out of the corner of his eye, but I kept my eyes focused on Harry. “I’m not. I’m just saying that you’ve been a real dick to me this year, and I don’t know why you think it’s okay to keep trying to intervene in my life like you’re my knight in shining armour. Maybe…” I sighed, willing myself not to look at Draco and see his reaction to all of this even as my mind strangely longed to make sure that he was truly alright. “Maybe there was time that you were. Or at least, I hoped you would be. I  _ thought _ you would be after my father kicked me out, but you ended up just breaking my heart even more.”

Remorse painted Harry’s face, and I felt my heart soften a bit, but I continued. “I don’t need you to save me, Harry. Not anymore. I thought, even after Ginny, you and I would be able to be friends again after I got over you. But after what you said about that night that you and Draco fought and he almost died, I realized that I-I don’t need anyone to save me, not really. You have this saviour complex about everyone in your life, but people around you don’t need a  _ hero _ . They need a friend who isn’t going to leave them when things go to shit.” 

“You call him Draco now? God, Elaine, what is wrong with you?” Harry shook his head, but I merely stared at him, anger bubbling ever closer to the surface.

“I’ve told you I’m sorry. More than once. But do you really think I can just sit back and watch you put yourself in danger by being around Malfoy? He’s not safe, Elaine. He’s going to hurt you. He  _ has _ hurt you,” Harry told me, a pleading tone entering his voice. “Malfoy doesn’t give a shit about you, and you’re insane if you think he does.”

His words stung like his hit only a few minutes before, but I tried to keep my face blank as I answered. “I know that he doesn’t. I’m not stupid enough to think he ever would, but at least he doesn’t pretend. I’m much smarter than you’ve ever given me credit for, Harry. If you think that I could ever believe Draco wants anything to do with me beyond antagonizing me, then you truly must think I’m stupid.”

As I spoke, a sorrowful tug yanked my stomach into knots. I was telling Harry exactly what I had been telling myself for Merlin knows how long, but I still didn’t believe it. I hoped that I sounded more convincing to Harry that I sounded to myself.

“I never pretended to care about you! I just don’t think that you’re thinking clearly. I know what happened with your father must’ve really thrown you for a loop.”

I laughed bitterly. “Only you would phrase getting kicked out as being thrown for a loop.”

Harry winced, but wisely stayed silent. My mind was reeling from everything that had happened in the past few minutes and my head was pounding harder than ever. All I wanted to do was get away from this mess that I continued to bury myself. Or just take a very long, deep nap. 

“Just...I don’t need you to be my hero, Harry. Stop trying to be my hero. I can make my own choices, and what and who that involves stopped being your business the moment you decided to treat me and my feelings as expendable,” I said. 

Harry looked like he was going to protest, but thought better of it. “Fine. Go ahead and make shitty, dangerous choices. I guess I can’t stop you.” 


	26. Broken Noses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! not much to say about this update other than thank you all for the love and feedback on this story it means the world to me! we're getting near to the beginning of the end which makes me incredibly sad, but i will definitely be writing other fics after this. enjoy<3333

“Draco, are you okay?” Pansy questioned from behind me, her voice full of despair. He and I were both watching Harry retreat, the blond boy’s body still strung tight with white-hot anger. My hands shook with the remnants of adrenaline that was still working its way out of my system and it was all I could do to keep my eyes averted from Draco’s bruising skin. 

“Fuck off, Pansy.” His voice was hard, earning a small sound of indignation from the girl. She still tried to clasp onto his arm, but he roughly tore it from her grip, not even sparing her a moment’s glance. 

“Fine. You’re a fucking bore anyways. All you ever do is brood and whine,” Pansy stated, her steps clicking loudly against the stone as she finally made her exit. Her sickly sweet perfume met my nose as she left, making my headache instantly worse with the overwhelming scent. 

That left only Draco and I. The castle was still rather empty, surrounding us with a crushing silence as each second ticked by, almost like someone had altered the state of time. Though I wasn’t looking at him, I could _feel_ his presence, as if I had developed some odd sixth sense only for him. I didn’t know what to say. If there was anything to say at all.

I was angry; that much I did know. I was angry at the way he had talked about me to Pansy. To Harry. I was angry that he could dismiss me so harshly, yet still attack Harry seemingly in--

Well, not in defense _of_ me. But that was how it had looked. It was surely how Harry had taken it, even if he had been the one to antagonize Draco in the first place. 

Lately it felt like I was always angry at someone. It was exhausting.

My forearm where Harry had struck still stung. I was tempted to check for bruises, but it felt almost childish to do so when Draco was standing so near, surely still bleeding from a few of Harry’s many hits. It crossed my mind that I had seen Draco bruised and bloodied more times this year alone than I had seen him in the previous years combined. 

That had to be a very, very bad omen. 

Deafening silence still persisted, and I figured I might as well just leave. I had nothing to say to Draco after what had happened, so I turned to follow Harry’s earlier path down the stairs only to feel an icy hand grip my wrist. I suppressed a groan even as my heart leaped at the contact. 

“Don’t tell anyone what happened,” Draco commanded as I was still turned away, his nails pressing into the tender flesh of my wrist.

His words sent a wave of irritation through me and I spun to face him. Thankfully I didn’t freeze at the sight of his face, stained as it was with fresh and drying blood, matched by the violently red and purple marks. “Really? You really think you have to tell me that after everything that’s happened this year? Jesus, how stupid do you think I am?” I replied angrily. 

Draco’s face was calm, contrasting strangely with the gore painting his face. “I don’t think you want the answer to that question.”

I tried to pull my arm out of his grasp, but his grip was so tight around my frail wrist that I only succeeded in making it pop sickeningly. “You’re right, I don’t, because you’d take any chance you got to insult me. Let me go. I’m sick of being around you.”

“Not a very courteous thing to say to someone who just got in a fight because of you,” Draco growled, jerking me closer to him, my feet dragging against the stone floor. “I shouldn’t expect manners from a Muggle, though.”

I felt my face twist as confusion and bitterness hit me. “Excuse me? I didn’t make you fight Harry like the immature child you are. You both think you have ownership over me, or a say on how I spend my time, but you _don’t_.”

I scanned his face, waiting for any indication of the effects my words may have had. A trickle of bright crimson caught my attention, the liquid creating a red trail down from his nose to his slightly swollen split lips. They were slightly chapped, like he had been chewing on them. He either didn’t notice the blood or was choosing to ignore it because he didn’t wipe it away. 

Draco scoffed, the scent of metal hitting me as I felt his breath tickle my face. “Like you didn’t enjoy us fighting over you. You practically beg for attention from both of us, and now you’re acting all high and mighty because you finally got it. You’re ridiculous.” His tone was soaked with haughty smugness. I suddenly felt his nose needed rebreaking.

“I’m ridiculous? That’s rich coming from you. You’re the one who--” I said, but stopped myself before finishing my sentence, because it was going in a direction that I was not keen on following.

_You’re the one who cared enough to stop me last night only to turn around and treat me like I’m nothing today._

“I’m the one that what?” he challenged, his granite eyes bright with the beginning spark of his signature temper. 

I didn’t answer, because I honestly didn’t have anything to say that wouldn’t show how his actions were affecting me. Draco wasn’t a patient person though, and he squeezed my wrist harder, making me wince in pain. 

“I’m the one that _what_?” A demand this time, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice. 

I didn’t want to repeat this cycle again. I didn’t want to admit to him, once again, that what he had done had affected me. I wasn’t going to fold under the pressure. Not this time. For once I wanted to be the one in control. 

“You’re the one who’s a massive fucking hypocrite,” I answered simply. “Let go.”

Draco snorted roughly. “Good one, Adler. Really hurt my feelings with that one.”

“See?” I shot back. “You are a huge, insufferably annoying dick who can’t keep his nose out of other people’s business.”

“Last I checked, you were the one that wanted me in your…” Draco paused, looking me up and down slowly, “ _Business_ .” 

My face flushed with embarrassment. “Let _go_. I’m serious,” I repeated, ignoring the flush of heat that his words sent through me.

Something in my voice seemed to capture his attention because he let go of my wrist. I brought it close to my body, softly rubbing the pulsing skin. I didn’t retreat though, as frigid as Draco’s gaze was, the cool wall of indifference once again concealing his would-be expressions.

“Go clean yourself up,” I mumbled. "You're dripping blood on the floor”

Draco shrugged. “So?”

“ _So,_ ” I mimicked, “Don’t you think it’s going to be just a bit strange if people see you walking around with blood plastered all over you?”

“If you care so damn much about it, you do it.” 

I almost refused, almost told him to go to hell, but…

It _would_ be suspicious if people saw him so bloody, I rationalized. 

“Come on, then,” I said.

Draco’s brows furrowed. “What?”

I looked at him as if to say, _Seriously?_ “You told me if it bothers me that I should do it, so come on. Let’s get this over with so you can get on to whatever stupid plans you have for the rest of the day.”

Draco didn’t respond, but trailed behind me as I walked, always just a few steps away. The amount of surprise that went through me as he actually followed me was barely measurable; I had assumed he would’ve been stubborn. It would’ve surprised me far less if he acted repulsed at the idea of me cleaning him up, like he had so many times before. 

I was headed towards a relatively unused bathroom on that floor, one tucked at the end of winding corridors that students rarely ever went down. _Not_ because I wanted to be alone with Draco, but because I didn’t want anyone seeing us together. I pushed open the door to the girl’s toilet, but Draco hung back with an incredulous look on his face. 

“Jesus,” I sighed. “No one uses this, like ever. Stop being a priss and get in before I leave all that dried blood on you.”

Draco shot me a heated glare, but stalked past me, letting the door slam roughly behind him. He leaned against the edge of the long line of connected porcelain sinks, his skin blending in almost effortlessly with the tile. Grabbing a handful of towels, I ran them under water in a sink adjacent to Draco, twisting the handle slightly to make sure it wasn’t too cold on his skin. 

Because that would make it harder to get the blood off. 

His eyes followed me as I wetted the towels and moved in front of him. The urge to shy away from his intense stare was difficult to ignore, but I gulped softly and examined his face. Draco’s cologne was making it incredibly hard to focus, but I forced myself to decide which bit of his face to start with.

I avoided touching any part of him aside from the hand that held the towel, meaning that I had to lean awkwardly over his long legs that were stretched out in front of him. His mouth and nose had much more blood than his eyebrow and the small cut on his cheekbone, but I didn’t think I could handle being so near his mouth with my mind being slightly foggy from my persistent headache. Lifting the towel, I pressed it gently to the cut lining his blond brow, making Draco hiss quietly through clenched teeth. I rubbed away at the crusted blood with short, stiff movements, willing my hands not to shake. My awkward position made it difficult to work effectively, but there was no way in hell I was going to ask Draco to open his legs for me.

“I’m just meeting my father later, so don’t worry about making me late,” Draco said, his voice echoing in the empty restroom. I ignored the way the sound made my heart speed up. 

“Oh,” I responded. “Good to know.”

I wasn’t really sure why he had offered up that bit of information, honestly. I hadn’t asked about his plans, only acknowledged that he had some. Curiosity was a bastard though, and I began wondering why his father was coming to the school to meet with him. Lucius Malfoy was at the school quite often, but usually only for board meetings and the like. 

“I…” Draco began, but stopped as I pressed too roughly against one of his cuts. “Fuck, Adler, be careful.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” I shot back, but I did soften my movements as I finished with his brow and moved to his cheekbone. 

“It’s probably best my father doesn’t see me like this,” Draco said.

That was about as close as I would probably ever get to hearing him say I was right, which made me smile a bit before I wiped it off my face quickly. 

“Probably,” I agreed as I continued my work. 

The towel I was using was dry, so I tossed the stained object into the trash and went to get another one, wetting it like I had the last in a sink next to Draco. When I moved back however, Draco had relaxed his legs, creating a space just wide enough for me to slot into. He looked as if he hadn’t even known he had moved, which he probably didn’t. Why would he move just for me?

I paused as I looked at him, noticeably enough that Draco rolled his eyes. “Well, get on with it.” 

There wasn’t much space at all between his legs still. There was enough that I could practically stand with my front pressing into his, but every bit of him would still be so close. My chest felt tight as I worked up the courage to move. 

The idea of standing between his suit-clad thighs, pressing into his hips...I forced myself to nod, swallowing nervously. I slid between his legs, now close enough that I could actually work properly. My hip bones grazed his thighs as I moved closer and I winced, sure that he was going to get upset at me touching him like that, even on accident. Draco didn’t even flinch, didn’t even look at me as I lifted the new towel to his face. 

Really, all the blood was gone aside from the rust-colored stains on his mouth and nose, but my mind was already racing from being between his legs. I needed just a few moments to right myself, to find that common sense I knew I had somewhere, so I aimlessly rubbed at his already-clean cheek. He wasn’t bothering to keep his head still, so I mindlessly brought up my free hand to press to his jaw. I realized what I was doing, but I had already touched him. I figured it would be far weirder if I moved away, so I kept my hand against his face. His jaw was sharp, his skin hot as I held him still.

“Is my nose broken?” Draco asked suddenly, and I paused my work, leaning back to examine it. 

It was red and swelling a bit, the bridge of his strong nose crooked to the side minutely. “Maybe a bit.”

Draco sighed. “Something can’t be broken _a bit_. Is it or isn’t it?”

“It...is,” I told him uncertainly. “Do you want me to--”

“Yes, fine,” He said, pulling his face away from my touch for the first time since I started. 

Setting down the blood-stained towel, I fished my wand out of my waistband and aimed it at his injured nose. I knew the spell; I had even used it on myself a time or two, but using it on Draco was making me nervous. 

I didn’t want to hurt him. 

I spoke the spell forcefully, earning a crack and a rough groan from Draco as he brought his hand up to feel his nose. 

His words were muffled because of his hand, but--

“Not bad,” Draco mumbled, and I could’ve sworn there was a hint of admiration in his words. 

I shrugged, willing my face not to flush too badly. “I’ve had some practice with that particular spell.”

Tucking my wand away, I picked up the towel and told myself it was time to stop stalling. I finally brought it up to his newly-healed nose, beginning to wipe away the blood smeared across the top of his lips. 

“On yourself?” He asked, interrupting my work. 

“Yes,” I said simply. 

“What happened?”

I sighed, squeezing my eyes shut with annoyance. “I can’t work if you keep talking,” I pointed out, making him shut his mouth once more. Though. . . perhaps I could tell him, just to make time pass faster. 

“I was thirteen. Some older Hufflepuff boy was being stupid and swinging his bookbag around in the hallway and ended up smacking me in the face.”

Draco snorted, but stayed still.

“I didn’t want to bother Madam Pomfrey for something so small, so I asked Hermione how and just fixed it myself,” I told him, wiping away the last bits of gore surrounding his nose. 

I left out the part that I had been too scared to go to Madam Pomfrey because I was worried she would notice the myriad of examples my body carried of how my father treated me.

_Now the hard part_.

I slid my hand down his jaw towards me so that I would have more stability and forced myself not to think about how warm Draco’s lips had been against mine the night before. Heat coiled in my core as I touched his mouth gently, feeling his eyes on me. 

“Then last year, I had to use it again because...well, I’m sure you remember that delightful little trick you pulled with Zabini in Herbology with the pot you enchanted to hit me,” I continued, hoping that recalling the stinging sensation of the clay pot shattering against my face would offer some distraction. A distraction from how close I was to those lips that I hadn’t been able to get out of my mind for weeks.

Draco nodded slightly, humming in affirmation. Of course he remembered; he had laughed about it so hard he’d been in tears.

It was becoming ever harder to clean up the dried crimson caking Draco’s mouth without thinking about how delicious his mouth had tasted the night before. Or about how firmly we had been pressed together before he had put a stop to everything. I hadn’t given myself the chance to look up at Draco and see his reaction to all of this. Most of that hesitation sprung from the fact that I was sure he would be either entirely repulsed, or just wholly indifferent to me being so close. I didn’t really know which would’ve made me feel worse. 

Finally, the last spots of blood were wiped away, returning Draco’s face to his usual pristine state. It felt nearly impossible to pull my hand away, but I managed it. Not a single speck of scarlet remained; only two pink cuts marring his skin indicated he had been hurt at all that day. I pulled the rag away, but kept it in my hands, needing something to distract me from the tempting boy in front of me.

I still refused to meet his gaze, even as Draco spoke, his voice quiet: “I broke my nose once. Or, my father did. I was ten.”

It was awful that that didn’t surprise me in the least, but I stilled, hoping he would continue. Draco offering up any sort of personal detail, even just in response to me offering some first...

“That cane of his really packs quite a punch,” Draco said casually, as if he were mentioning the state of the weather. 

I could hear a small quiver in his voice, though. I wouldn’t have been able to pick it out unless I was as close to him as I was now, his thighs still a warm whisper of a presence against my hips. He had never mentioned any of his father’s abuse outside of the time I had found him nearly beaten half to death, but it wasn’t a secret. Everyone at Hogwarts suspected his father was a vindictive bastard who liked to take his anger out on his only child. 

Bruises were much harder to hide than most people thought.

Lucius Malfoy probably thought that treating Draco like he was worthless would turn him into his ideal child: devoted, mindless, and unquestioning. It seemed, though, that maybe...maybe his treatment was turning Draco into the opposite. 

Was it foolish to think that? Surely. 

Did it stop me? Not in the slightest. 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, knowing that sentiment was practically useless. I had always hated when people had apologized for my own father’s actions. It wasn’t their fault, but I understood a bit more now why they felt compelled to apologize. 

Draco’s hand suddenly grazed my chin, making me flinch in surprise. I didn’t pull back, though. Two of his slender fingers slid under my chin, tilting my head up so that I was finally looking at him. Warmth spiraled from where his skin touched mine like it did every time he was so near. The storm-gray streaks in his irises that I normally didn’t get to see made me look on in dazed wonder as he spoke again. 

“I think you understand more than anyone that that doesn’t mean anything,” He told me, but there was nothing vicious in his words. 

I nodded in agreement. As much as we used to loathe having anything to do with each other, we did have that shared connection of fathers that treated us like little more than the dirt they walked on. 

Sometimes, they even treated us less than that. 

“You’re lucky, though,” Draco whispered, as if he were afraid someone would hear him. “You’re out.”

The words, the way he said them almost longingly, _hurt_. It was as if he were...jealous, or something similar. I realized he was right, though. I was out. I had no further obligation to my father, especially not in the way that Draco did. Something about talking about his father had caused a strange air to surround Draco, as if, for a few seconds, we could speak freely without hatred and pride hounding us at every step. It was the first time either of us had mentioned anything about what had happened to me over break since the day we returned. I didn't know that he still remembered; why would he? My father kicking me out should've been of no concern to him. 

I guess I hadn’t let myself realize just how much our fathers connected us. Draco and I would always have that horrible secret in common, and I...I think that it made us far more similar than I had thought. No one else in our lives would ever understand that part of us more than each other. 

That thought made me feel something about Draco that would’ve shocked myself even three weeks ago. 

A sense of… _sameness_. The gravity of understanding that made my chest tighten. Possibly the two of us had despised each other so much because of how alike we were. Perhaps I had seen the worst of myself in Draco, the parts that I never wanted to face, and he had seen the same in me.

And now, Draco confessing that perhaps we had another thing in common, that we both wanted to escape...

That was the first time I ever let myself think that maybe Draco didn’t want everything that he claimed he did. 

“You could be, too,” I breathed, not thinking about my words, about what they implied. 

Draco shook his head, even as he leaned in, making my heart thud almost painfully with anticipation. “No, Elaine, I can’t. I'm not like you. I can't just do whatever I want whenever I want. I-I have obligations. You wouldn't understand. You could never understand.”

The emotion flickering in his eyes sent an uneasy feeling shooting through me, and I wondered what sort of obligations could have a seventeen year-old boy so incredibly distraught and terrified.

I was about to protest, to say that I certainly could understand, but I didn't get the chance. His mouth pressed to mine before I could even reply, his lips cautious, as if it were the first time we had ever kissed. Gently, so _gently_ , his lips caressed mine with more uncertainty that I had ever seen from the usually-cocky boy. My nervous system felt electrified as he kissed me, like his touch sent shocks rippling through me. 

All our kisses before this had been hasty, angry, full of want, but this one? It was tender, hesitant, as if we were entering into a new territory that we had never let ourselves think of venturing into. Draco’s hand stayed gently cupping my chin, and my hands stayed wrapped around the stained towel I still held. As much as fiery want was building in me, I wanted to focus on the feeling of his plush mouth against mine, and only on that feeling. 

I wanted to savor his softness, because I had never seen it before, and I doubted I would ever see it again. I had to remember every curve of his mouth, every way that he moved his lips against mine in a sort of slow waltz. This was the only time, I told myself. 

This was the only time I would let myself receive such tender, tentative affection, especially from Draco. 

The kiss was chaste, incredibly at odds with all our other intimate encounters, but my knees were weaker than ever before as he swiped his tongue against my bottom lip once. It was a brushing touch, no more than a moment, but it made my head spin nonetheless. Draco’s hand slid to cup the side of my face, his hand moving slowly, as if he were memorizing the feel of my skin. 

I set the towel I had been twisting in my hands aside, hesitantly bringing them up to lightly rest on either side of his elegant face. Draco didn’t even flinch at my touch, which seemed a pathetic thing to be encouraged by, but I was. It might’ve been due to the fact that in the back of my mind, some part of me realized how much Draco had to at least _want_ to trust me to let me touch him so carefully. His skin was cold beneath my hands, his cheeks smooth without even the hint of stubble poking through. 

Our mouths were tangled in a steady, sweet kiss that seemed to be all my mind could think about. His lips fit so perfectly between mine, as if they had been sculpted from matching molds, and I never wanted the vulnerable, rare moment to end. 

Especially not as he traveled his hand to the back of my head, pulling me into him as he carded his fingers through my hair that was most likely still a mess from sleep the night before. With his action, my hips were now flush with his, though I didn’t feel the same urgency from the previous encounter. I only felt the beginning of a bittersweet longing as I realized that this was going to end eventually. This kiss wasn’t...it wasn’t going to happen again. 

As he pressed the deepest, most heart wrenching kiss to my mouth yet, I realized just how terribly I wanted this fragile, precious connection to happen again. I was returning his kiss with emotions that I hoped conveyed exactly how I was feeling, because I knew getting the words out to express that to Draco …

I doubted he would even let me speak them. 

Draco, pulled back with a slowness that made my heart wrench terribly as our lips finally parted. He didn’t speak. Draco merely looked at me and I met his gaze, hoping that I would find some indication there of how he was feeling. 

“I have to go,” Draco breathed softly, his hand still wound through my hair. His words made a pining ache course through me, and I hoped it wasn’t clear on my face how gutted I was that he was going to leave.

I knew him leaving meant leaving this moment behind, and I wanted anything but that.

Words seemed impossible to form, so I only responded with a slight dip of my chin to indicate that I understood. I stepped out of his reach as he slipped his hand from my hair, the absence of warmth far too noticeable as he gave me one last look before moving around me.

"If you tell anyone about my father, or-" 

Gone was the soft, humane boy; Draco's usual fiery countenance returned with fervor as, even in such a short sentence, his words held such a promising threat.

"I know," I responded, before Draco could once again tell me not to mention this to a single living soul. 

"And don't leave right after I do. I don't want people to think that-"

_That we were doing exactly what we had just done?_

It didn't surprise me that he still was so scared of anyone finding out he'd even given me the time of day, but that didn't mean it didn't still sting. I wished it didn't. 

I simply nodded in response, wanting him to just _leave_ so that I could process whatever the hell had just happened. I could feel that familiar sense of panic welling up in me, and I couldn't stand the thought of him witnessing the semi-breakdown that was clawing its way up my throat quicker by the second. Guilt, shame, dread, you name it, it was threatening to drown me any moment.

I didn’t turn around, but I could see his retreating form in the mirror in front of me. He wiped his palm on his pants as he left, as if he couldn't bear to feel the traces of my skin on his any longer. 

  
I could’ve sworn he hesitated before he opened the door and walked through it. The sound of it shutting felt far too loud, far too _real_ for what had just happened between us.


	27. Cabinets and Corners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> up this weekend as promised!!!! enjoy<3   
> slight content warnings for references to assault

I didn’t want Draco to go. I hated that he felt the need to keep reminding me whatever was between us had to be kept a secret. As if I wanted people to know either. Harry had already given me enough shit for everything that I had done. It just served as another reminder on Draco's opinion of my intelligence.

My stomach growled angrily, reminding me that on top of the pounding headache and the throbbing in my arm, I hadn’t eaten and it was already noon. I shoved away all my unpleasant thoughts, certain that they would return in no time, and hoped the Great Hall was empty so I could eat and brood in peace. 

It was nice, having the castle so desolate. It should’ve been eerie not to hear the constant clatter of footsteps or the echoes of students shouting and laughing, but I craved isolation more than anything in that moment. It was self-destructive, yes, but I wanted to be alone so I could mull over how much my own actions were beginning to confuse even me. I decided to take a rather winding and extensive route to the Great Hall from the secluded bathroom. I wanted to savor the quiet solitude that was so fleetingly rare while in Hogwarts. 

I wrapped my arms around myself as I walked, a biting wind causing shivers down my spine as it pierced through my sweatshirt. This morning had not turned out the way that I had hoped. Even with...but that needed to be forgotten, I told myself. It wasn’t going to happen again, so it was foolish and naive to dwell on it.

It seemed my bad luck had only just begun.

Walking through the winding hallways, the only sounds I could hear were my quiet breaths and the tapping sounds of my shoes. Those were the only sounds, until I neared a broom closet tucked in a shadowy corner of a seldom-used corridor and heard Snape’s hissing voice floating through the cracked wooden door backed by a chorus of crackling flames from a fire. 

“My Lord, the boy is dedicated; he has proven that. He accepted immediately when you offered him this task. He has been working for you since he was fifteen. But he is still young, and--”

My Lord? That couldn’t be...

A moment of silence, and then--

“Yes, my Lord, I understand. I am not protecting the boy, but it would be in our best interest if perhaps you gave someone else the task of fixing the Vanishing Cabinet. He seems distracted and he is in school. His grades should not be--”

A pause.

“No, my Lord, I would never suggest that. I understand why you chose Draco specifically for this task.” 

Horror that hit me like a train, nearly knocked the breath out of me. So...fuck, so Harry had been right. Draco was actually working with-with-

I couldn’t even bring myself to think of the name; not when Snape was speaking to the man, the creature, behind the very door I now stood in front of. I didn’t want to hear a single word more, and yet I felt glued to the spot as Snape continued. 

“Draco is young, my Lord. You must give him time. He will prove his devotion, I swear it. Or I shall take the consequences of his mistakes,” Snape said, his deadly voice soft with reverence.

“Yes, my Lord. I understand. The cabinet will be in working order within the month. I swear it.” 

The conversation seemed to be over, and suddenly I could move again, the freezing fear warming into a horrified panic. I didn’t care how loud my pounding footsteps were as I took off in a run. I had to get away before Snape could catch me outside of that closet, because the consequences of that were all too terrifying.

My imagination ran through possibilities that nearly made me stop and empty the meager contents of my stomach. I heard the closet fling open just as I rounded the corner, but I didn’t stop running, not until I was out in the open air, completely forgoing my previous plans to eat. The air was far too cold for me to only be out in a sweatshirt, but I couldn’t stand to be inside anymore, not when I knew that Snape was--

That Draco was--

Then it dawned on me as my pace slowed and I collapsed by the tree I had so many times before, my breathing ragged in my chest as I gulped in frozen gasps of oxygen. The cabinet in the Room of Requirement, the one that Draco’s eyes had lingered on that day we had returned from holiday break. That must be the cabinet that Snape had been referring to, but he had given little indication as to what it was or what it did. 

Perhaps it was some way to get messages to Snape or to Draco from other Death Eaters.

Or, like the name suggested, it was used to vanish people from one spot to the next. Hogwarts had wards against Apparition inside the grounds. Hermione had drilled that into me my first year here, but if Voldemort had found some way to get past that then we were all fucked.

I couldn't even begin to imagine what Voldemort's endgame was. But now I knew for certain that whatever it was, Draco was helping along. 

In that moment, I realized messing around with him wasn’t just dangerous because he hated me. Being involved with him in any way could very easily get me killed. The thought made my stomach roll. 

How could I have been so stupid up until now? How had I thought that what I was doing was okay? I had been spending time alone with Draco. I had let him touch me! Even when I knew how he felt about Muggleborns. 

And now, hearing that he really was working for the most wicked, sick, violent wizard the world had ever seen? After the brief but sincere moment of honesty Draco had given me, it felt like a betrayal. 

Why should I feel betrayed by Draco? It wasn’t like he promised me anything. Just because he'd said he wished to escape didn’t mean he meant it. And it certainly didn’t mean he included me in that hypothetical scenario. 

I slammed my fists into the ground, savoring the feeling of sharp pain that electrified my still-healing hand. Tears stung my eyes as the pain echoed, but it was good. I deserved it. 

Even after hearing what I had, I couldn't smother the small hope that still lingered inside me. The steadfast belief that he wasn't like that. Not really. 

Hearing Snape say that Draco was struggling hadn’t helped. A voice inside my head whispered that maybe he wasn’t entirely convinced. Maybe Draco just needed someone to show him. 

I laughed bitterly at myself. Show him what? Love and kindness? Acceptance? 

Draco would probably rather spend his entire life in service to the Dark Lord than ever receive any of those things from anyone, especially me. This little game I was playing with myself in thinking I could ever make a difference in anyone’s life, especially his, was one of the most brainless, foolish things I had ever done. 

Wasn’t there anything that could crush that relentless streak of hopefulness that lived inside of me? I knew it was incredibly cynical to think, but I wished that any of the extensive, terrible things that had happened to me had tore that away from me. It was exhausting to constantly hope that things could be better. 

I should’ve listened to Draco the first hundred times he said he didn’t want me around. Then maybe, I wouldn’t have to deal with this horrible shamble of problems I called my life recently. Even with our most recent kiss, I had to keep telling myself things weren’t changing. They couldn’t, not where he was involved. 

My jacket was nowhere near thick enough for me to have ever gone outside in the first place, but now I was nearly frozen to the bone, my teeth clacking terribly against each other as I shivered. A nasty voice told me I should just stay out here, let myself freeze as some sort of punishment for my idiotic actions, but I knew I shouldn’t. 

Even if I felt slightly inclined to listen to that voice. 

Standing up off the ground felt like I was a machine that hadn’t been oiled in eons, but I managed to coax my stiff joints to stand and get moving. Hopefully, flowing blood would return the feeling to my fingers and toes that I had lost a number of minutes ago. 

Joining a scattered flock of students entering the castle, I finally made my way to the Great Hall to eat my first real meal in--well, in far too long, if the aching in my head was an indication of anything. I sat as far away from any other living being as I could, not wanting to expend the energy that talking required. The food, normally flavorful and delicious, felt like nothing but sawdust in my mouth as I forced myself to down a half bowl of soup and a measly piece of bread. Both did nothing but make my mouth even drier. Even the pumpkin juice that I normally enjoyed seemed dull and flat as my thoughts spiraled around what I had heard Snape saying.

I wasn’t sure who I should tell, or if I even should mention it at all. Harry...that blow to my pride wasn’t an option. Hermione and Ron would likely just panic about it, and Hagrid would probably confront Snape himself, which wouldn’t end well for anyone. 

Dumbledore was the natural answer, but I knew that he whole-heartedly believed Snape had changed. Besides, why would he listen to anyone besides his star student? It felt...hopeless, really. Only a short time had passed, and yet, the information I was holding felt like the weight of the entire world as I looked around at the bright lights and cheery, red faces of my fellow students. 

This is what Voldemort, what Draco and Snape were threatening. A school that only wanted to teach young witches and wizards things that would help them in the future. A school that was home for so many people, including myself. It made me sick that he could give this school up, all of these innocent students up, for--for what? A chance at fame, at power? 

I told myself right then and there, as I sat alone, eating food that I could barely taste, that as fruitless as it may be, I had to try and help. 

\--------

There wasn’t much I could do, but I could return to that cabinet and maybe I would find something useful to tell Dumbledore to make him believe me, so later that night, after everyone in the castle was asleep, I shoved off my covers and snuck quietly out of my dormitory. I had to be careful because of the usual threats of Filch and Mrs. Norris, but I also needed to be on alert for Draco, or worse, Snape, roaming the halls. My every move was slow and calculated; each footstep was feather-light and each breath was taken slowly and shallowly. 

Maybe this wasn’t my fight, and maybe I was being exceedingly reckless and dimwitted, but I felt useless sitting around and doing nothing when I knew what I did. The guilt of sitting on my ass and pretending like I had no clue what was happening would hurt far worse than any looming threat of pain and danger that inevitably waited for me in the Room of Requirement. That didn’t stop my heart from racing so quickly I thought it might genuinely pose a health risk as I slowly worked my way towards the fifth floor. Each noise, even each whisper of wind through the corridors made me freeze with panic, but eventually, after a long stretch of painstaking minutes, I arrived at that empty stretch of wall that hid the room. 

Hoping that it would lead me into the right room, I pushed gingerly on the door that appeared. I let out a little exhale of relief as the piano, plush couches, and sprawling spreads of books came into view. And yes, there in the corner, the dark Vanishing Cabinet towered above me like a foreboding column of evil. I shut the door smoothly, waiting until I heard the soft click of the bolt latching into the doorway, before letting the tension escape my body. 

It seemed like I was alone, to my relief, but I still did a quick scan of the room to make sure before approaching the cabinet. Seeing the spot that Draco had pulled me close, had made me tell him exactly how I got that brutal black eye, I almost hesitated. I almost paused to let the feeling of his skin on mine and the feel of his rough voice wash over me, but I wouldn’t let myself forgo my earlier promise so quickly. 

I had some dignity left. Not much, but...some. 

The door was heavy and the knob to open it was small, creating a rather odd struggle as I tugged it open. My heart pounded in anticipation as I waited to see what manner of awfulness awaited me inside. 

A half-rotten green apple was the last thing I had been expecting. The skin, which had probably once been a bright spring-green, was now yellowed and dirty. There was a single bit taken out of it, brown edging the rough teeth marks, as if someone had suddenly gotten a bit peckish while fixing the cabinet. 

The thought was almost enough to make me snort, until I spotted a scrawled note sitting a few inches away. 

I don’t think we need to remind you what will happen if you fail. You must not fail, Draco. Do not disappoint me further.

There was no name signed, but I could take a very accurate guess as to who it was from. If Draco was involved with this, as well as Snape, there was no way his father wasn’t. The amount of pressure Draco must’ve had on him this year was staggering. Having to balance school and a task where failure almost certainly meant death?

No wonder the boy had seemed so increasingly burnt out. 

No wonder he had used me as a distraction. 

That’s all it had been. Right?

The cabinet seemed incredibly ordinary; I scanned it for any signs of...of anything, really, but all I could see was a rather large and intimidating bit of furniture. There weren’t even any scratches or imperfections marring the reflective black surface. It made me feel increasingly inept as I searched and searched for anything indicating it was magical at all. Nothing bothered me more than a riddle I wasn’t able to solve; what use was being a Ravenclaw if I couldn’t even figure things like this out? Clearly, Draco was using this cabinet for something, but I couldn’t figure out how it worked. 

It seemed to be jeering at me as I studied it once more, but nothing. I knew that I should be quick; I didn’t know if or when Draco was going to come to work on it. I assumed it would be late at night, much like I was. Thinking of him finding me here, so obviously aware of what he was doing with the cabinet, made me gulp with unease. 

I’ll come back another night, then.

There was something about the cabinet that made me feel uneasy, as if a cruel, invisible power was rippling off it in waves. It felt oily, like its poisonous nature was coating my skin. 

I definitely needed to leave. 

As fruitless as my venture had been, I still felt at least a bit optimistic that I had something to show Dumbledore, if he would listen to me.

Optimistic was a funny word to use when talking about the most ruthless, bloodthirsty wizard to exist and his followers. 

At least I was doing something, though, unlike most others in the Wizarding World. Ever since Harry had seen Voldemort come back two years ago, it had been the subject of much debate. I had believed Harry immediately; after seeing the cold, lifeless look in his eyes after the Triwizard Tournament, it was hard not to. Not everyone felt that way, though. 

The Ministry certainly had shut Harry down without so much as a second thought, those imbecilic bastards. 

Even if I hadn’t believed Harry before, after today, I would have. I didn’t want it to be true, but hearing Snape somehow speak to Voldemort while in the castle, I knew something really, truly terrible was coming to Hogwarts. 

That something grim and malicious was heading straight for me, whether I stayed away from Draco or not. 

\----------

For the next few days, life went on as it normally did, aside from the constant sense of impending doom that was continuously knotting my stomach and making me on edge. 

Even in Potions, where I was certain Draco would do something malicious, he didn’t. He wasn’t suddenly kind or anything of the sort, of course. But he was just him, his usual cavalier, haughty self. I couldn’t help being hyper aware of every one of his movements, though. Everytime he laughed or made a nasty joke, I found myself remembering the tone of his voice when he had spoked about escaping his father. Everytime he picked up an ingredient or used his quill to jot something down, my mind recalled the light, warm presence of his hand running through my hair. 

He didn’t speak to me, or even glance at me, but I reprimanded myself for expecting him to. I had to keep reminding myself that nothing was changing. Nothing was going to be different, even if I hadn’t stopped thinking about his mouth against mine since the last time the two of us spoke. In fact, I hadn’t stopped thinking about Draco at all, not even while sleeping. Not that I had been sleeping much, though. The dark circles shadowing my eyes were practically a permanent feature at this point. 

I found myself so distracted during class, Slughorn asked me to come and talk to him afterwards following a rather heinous mistake in which I had accidentally melted the bottom off my cauldron. It had been one of the few potions we had made alone that term, meaning I had only ruined my own work, to my relief. I couldn’t imagine the reaction Draco would’ve had if I had ruined his potion. Bits of snickering laughter had rose throughout the class as the burning smell of melting metal invaded the air, but if Draco had joined in, I hadn’t heard him. 

The class filtered out after Slughorn had called it a day and asked us to clean up, leaving me behind, nervously picking at the skin around my nails as I waited for my audience with the professor. Once the last student had trudged out of the room, I hesitantly approached Slughorn, whose face was filled with fatherly concern as I stood in front of his desk. 

“My dear, care to tell me what’s on your mind today?” He asked gently, crossing his arms over his rotund belly. “You’re normally not one of the students I consider a safety risk.”

I smiled slightly at his attempt at a joke. “It’s nothing, Professor. Just have a lot on my mind.”

Slughorn hummed, as if he didn’t quite believe me. “As well as I’ve gotten to know you this year, I won’t bother asking if you need to talk about it. I assume the answer would be no?”

With a nod from me, he continued. “Well then, I hope that things improve. Can’t have one of my best students falling behind now, can I? If you need extra time to work, or if you want to come in and make up this potion, you’re certainly welcome to. I normally don’t offer do-overs or special accommodations, but I think that this time, I can let it slide,” he said, winking jovially at me. 

“Thank you, sir, really. I just might take you up on that,” I responded, feeling a bit relieved about his leniency. “I promise next class will be better.”

“No worries, Ms. Adler. Sometimes, we just need a little time to recover,” Slughorn said. “Alright, go and enjoy the rest of your day. Things will get better, I promise.”

With another smile, a real one this time, I nodded and left, grabbing my bag from my table on the way out. I had been planning on getting some studying done before dinner, so I split off from everyone heading towards their respective common rooms and headed for the library. 

As I left the large stream of students, I noticed a group of boys trailed after me, snickering rudely as we walked. I focused on the ground in front of me, intent on ignoring their presence. That became impossible, however, as one of them, an older Hufflepuff who I had met maybe once or twice grabbed the back of my robes, stopping me in my tracks. 

I spun around, tugging the fabric out of his grasp. “Can I help you?” I asked, clearly exasperated. 

The boy who had grabbed my robes snickered, nudging his friend next to him. “Yeah, Adler, you can actually. Kinda like you helped that lucky Malfoy bastard the other night.”

I felt the color drain from my face as his friends looked at me, all with varying degrees of perverted lust shining in their eyes. “Excuse me?”

“You heard Ellison,” the boy to his left said. “Why don’t you let us see what had Malfoy all hot and bothered that night? Must be quite the sight under those robes to make even that stuck-up asshole give you the time of day.”

Ellison and the third boy nodded their agreement. The hungry look in their eyes was making me increasingly nervous and I slipped my hand in my pocket, feeling the reassuring presence of my wand there. They moved forward, making me move back a step. There was a little nook behind me, one the boys used to corner me in as they spread out, making sure I couldn’t dart away.

Swallowing the lump forming in my throat, I said, “Leave me alone. Now.”

A chorus of ridiculing laughter came from the group of boys. “Aw, you think you can scare us? That’s not very kind of you,” Ellison tisked, reaching out and snagging a strand of my hair, twirling it in between his fingers. “You’re too pretty to be so rude, you know. It’s such a turn off when a girl is so defensive. Tell me, what did Malfoy say to you that made you want to get with him? Or Potter? Bet he’s quite persuasive when he wants to be, being the Chosen One and all.”

I snatched my hair away from him, taking a step back. “I’m not kidding. Fuck off, or--”

“Or what?” The third spoke up, a Slytherin, whose surname I thought might’ve been Tisdale, or something similar. “You’re gonna hex us? Run off to Malfoy or Potter? From what we’ve heard, they seem to have gotten their fill of you and are rather done with you, if you get my drift.”

His comment elicited evil laughter from his friends and I felt dread tightening around my chest like a rubber band. The look on the boys’ faces made my stomach sink and I fought the panic beginning to rise up within me. At first, I hadn’t been too worried about the group, but now…

“Come on, Adler,” Ellison said, his voice low. “Just give us a little show and we’ll leave you alone. You’re making this so much harder than it needs to be. What, are we not famous enough or rich enough for your taste?” 

I slid back another step, but the cold stone wall which dug into my back told me I had nowhere to go now. I willed myself not to start panicking, but that was far easier said than done as Ellison, followed closely by his little cronies, crept closer and closer. 

“I’m giving you one last chance to back away, I mean it,” I threatened, willing my voice to stay steady even as I felt the rest of my body beginning to tremble. 

I tried to think of any way out that wouldn’t involve a loud scene, because I didn’t want to deal with the aftermath of it. I didn’t want people coming to look on as I tried to escape. Using my wand was the most obvious answer, but Ellison had come so close now that I didn’t think I could pull it out quickly enough before he noticed. 

Still, it was my best option, so I curled my fingers tightly around the wood, thinking of the spell I was going to cast as soon as I got it free from my pocket. As I went to pull it out, though, I stopped dead. Tisdale had freed his own without me even seeing and had it pressed into the soft skin of my neck just below my jaw. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he growled, prodding me with his wand. 

I could feel my heartbeat pulsing against the point of pressure his wand was applying. Ellison’s eyes were dark with want, a look that sent horrified chills through every bit of my body. I lifted my hands up, as if to say I wasn’t going to make any sudden moves.

“See, you could’ve just done this the easy way,” he said sadly, as if it truly pained him. “Now it’ll just be so much less fun for you.”

“More fun for us, though,” the third boy (Cohen, I thought) replied, his lips curled in a vile smirk. 

I heard footsteps approaching, but I was too scared to take my eyes off the boy holding his wand to me. 

Please be someone that can actually help.

“Ellison, Cohen, Tisdale,” Draco’s monotonous cadence interrupted. “What an unpleasant surprise.” 

Not who I was going for, I swore internally. I didn’t want his help, not with this. 

“Malfoy,” Ellison snarled, turning his shadowy gaze from me to the statuesque Slytherin standing behind his friend, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Piss off. You already got a turn with her,” he said, gesturing to me. 

I slid my eyes away from Tisdale and found Draco’s silver ones looking back at me, filled with a thinly veiled expression of sharp anger that made even my stomach churn uneasily.

“Sorry to ruin your fun, but I think it’s time Adler gets going. She’s got things to do,” Draco droned, but there was a dangerous edge to his words. “You can catch up with her later, I’m sure.”

Ellison scoffed. “Piss off, Malfoy. Don’t stick your nose in places it doesn’t belong.” 

Draco sighed, pulling his hands out of his pocket, his wand held firmly. I could see that his knuckles were stark white. “Ellison, do I need to remind you what happened last time you pissed me off?” He turned his stare to Cohen, who flinched. “Or you? As I recall, the last time you couldn't stop running your mouth, it landed you a nice week’s visit to Madam Pomfrey.” 

“Really, Malfoy? You’re threatening us?” Ellison asked. “That’s bold, even for you.”

“It’s not a threat,” Draco responded, his eyes glinting menacingly. “It’s a promise. You’ll be lucky if you live to tell the tale.”

Tisdale’s wand was still sticking into my throat, my breaths shallow in the presence of such a threat. I didn’t want to just let Draco save me but I doubted I’d be able to do much until Tisdale dropped his wand. His attention was focused on the blond though, meaning all I had to do was wait for the right moment. 

“Malfoy, I mean it. Get the hell out of here,” Ellison repeated. “I might even let you have a turn after if you leave right now.”

Draco smirked, a dark and ruthless expression. “Unlike you, I don’t have to force Adler to do anything with me. See, when you’re not an ugly, troll-like piece of shit, you don’t need to corner unsuspecting girls to get sex.”

Ellison’s glare sent chills down my spine as his jaw clenched in anger. “You better watch your damn mouth.”

“Or what? You gonna send Cohen and Tisdale after me to do your dirty work like you always do? That’s pathetic,” Draco said. “The two of them can barely string two words together.”

Tisdale spun towards Draco, now pointing his wand at him. Draco merely snorted, as if the sight was rather amusing. “I’m absolutely terrified,” he stated, sarcasm dripping from his words. 

With Tisdale’s full attention on Draco, I finally had a window to pull out my own wand. Slipping it from my pocket, I mirrored the boy’s position from seconds earlier, digging my wand into the soft flesh of Tisdale’s throat. 

“Drop your damn wand,” I threatened, causing Ellison and Cohen to turn back towards me. 

Tisdale hesitated, looking at Ellison for direction. Ellison was glowering at me, his rage now directed towards me instead of Draco. I met Ellison’s stare with one of my own, unwilling to back down. 

Ellison whipped out his wand, his mouth opening to cast a spell at me, but in the next second it landed in Draco’s outstretched hand. I could’ve sworn Ellison’s eyes actually turned red with fury after he realized what had just happened. Cohen was now the only one left with full access to his wand, but I doubted he was bright enough to overpower both Draco and I. 

“Give it here!” Ellison snarled. 

Draco twirled the wood between his deft fingers for a moment, contemplating Ellison’s demand. “No, don’t think I will.”

“Enough fucking games. Give it back or--”

“Or what?” Draco snapped. “You’re wandless against two of the best students in our year. What the fuck can you,” he looked him up and down, disgust clear on his face, “do to us?”

I only had a moment to let myself bask in the fact that Draco had just called me one of the best students our age before he turned to me. His eyes darted over me, as if inspecting for any injuries or misplaced clothing. Apparently satisfied, he motioned me over with a tilt of his head.

“Let’s go. I’m pretty sure I’m losing brain cells just looking at these idiots,” Draco commanded and I dropped my wand from Tisdale’s neck, relieved to be getting out of here. Draco dropped Ellison’s wand unceremoniously on the ground, the wood clattering against the stone.

Though it wounded my pride, I couldn’t help the quickness of my feet as I darted around Ellison, who had still been standing in front of me. I was worried, even with the threat of Draco standing right there, Ellison would still try something. He didn’t though, and Draco and I began walking away from the three. My chest finally loosened as we got a good distance away. 

“Better watch your back!” Ellison called after us as we left. "He won't always be there to save you!”

Draco directed his wand backwards and muttered a soft command. Behind us, I heard three identical groans and the thud of bodies hitting the ground. I didn’t look back, not because I was still scared, but because the tears that were beginning to burn my nose were becoming difficult to suppress. My brain finally had time to process the situation, what it could’ve turned into if Draco hadn’t shown up. 

I was contemplating offering my thanks, but I didn’t get the chance as the swish of robes indicated Professor Snape’s ever-dramatic entrance. I forced myself to remain calm as I recalled the conversation I had overheard just a few days before. 

Draco and I stopped and I noticed his shoulders tightened as Snape stared at us, his greasy black hair framing his gaunt face. 

“How fortuitous,” Snape said, and the sinister tone of his voice made my blood run cold. “Just the two I was looking for.” 

  
  



	28. Remembrance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my dear readers, sorry for the delay but finals are finished! i have about a month til my next semester which means more frequent content & thank you all for the well wishes; it truly warms my heart<333 you all are so sweet! this chapter is incredibly long, but hopefully that'll make up for the delay i truly adore each of you and i hope you enjoy!  
> (personally this is one of my favorite chapters ive ever written but thats just me)

The cold, oily feeling of dread slithered down to my stomach and curled there, heavy and nauseating as Snape’s beady eyes scanned the two of us. Draco’s hand gripped so tightly on his wand that I was afraid it would snap between his bony fingers. Though it was still sunny out, Snape’s dark hair and robes seemed to swallow all the light around us. I felt goosebumps prick my arms as the three of us stood in silence. 

“I assume you knew I was looking for Ms. Adler,” Snape spoke to Draco, who gave a terse shake of his head in response. “No? Interesting,” he mused, turning his eyes back to me. 

“We do not have all day, Ms. Adler. Follow me,” Snape commanded, his robes billowing as he turned; walking away without sparing a glance back, knowing we would follow behind.

I dared to sneak a glance at Draco, since he might’ve had an idea why Snape wanted to see me. Draco, though, kept his gaze pinned to the floor in front of him, his body tense. He hadn’t put his wand away yet, so I didn’t either. It could’ve been entirely unrelated to the conversation I had overheard, but I knew that my luck was not that good. 

Each foot step rang in my ears like a drumbeat, counting down to the moment we stopped walking and whatever Snape wanted came to light. Each corridor we walked through seemed to get darker and darker until we reached the secluded hallway where Snape's office was. It made sense now, why he wanted so much privacy. It wouldn’t really be very good if Dumbledore were to hear his prized, “changed” former Death Eater conversing with the Dark Lord, would it? 

Snape reached his office before Draco and I, turning and waiting with a stony expression as we entered. My heart was like thunder in my ears. I couldn’t tell if Draco not knowing anything terrified me or not. 

Snape's office was filled with shelves full of jars and vials with every type of ingredient I could imagine. It was dark, eerie, as if the evil deeds of its occupant infested the lights that lined the walls and the ceiling. On Snape’s desk sat a large stoppered bottle that seemed to hold a pure white lily in it suspended in mid-air. 

He entered after us and locked the door behind him. The click of the bolt sent shivers down my spine, as if it were the opening score to the scene of my demise. For a moment, I chastised myself for being so dramatic, but once I spotted the chair sitting in the middle of the dimly lit room and the glass potion vile next to it, I realized perhaps my thoughts were warranted. 

“Ms. Adler,” Snape said, his dark eyes resting on me. “Take a seat.”

I dared a glance at Draco but he was looking at the vial. Flicking my gaze back to Snape, I nodded my head minutely and did as told. The wood creaked as I sat, my hands intertwined in my lap. 

“Draco, assist me with securing Ms. Adler. We wouldn’t want her to run off before we’ve finished.”

Draco only hesitated for a fraction of a second before imitating Snape by lifting his wand and mumbling a spell that I couldn’t quite make out. Ropes appeared out of thin air and wrapped around my wrist and ankles so swiftly I didn’t even have time to protest, snapping them to the wooden chair. The rough rope held my limbs to the arms and legs of my seat tight enough that my skin was already smarting with pain beneath it. 

Betrayal and fear came at Draco’s obedience. Even if I knew it shouldn’t. Of course he would listen to Snape, especially when knowing what I knew. There was no choice between Snape and I; Draco would never put himself on the line like that, not for me. 

I took a few breaths to calm my racing heart. I’d be damned if I let them see how scared I was. Snape picked up the bottle sitting next to me, his long, yellow fingernails softly clicking against it. The liquid inside was clear, almost akin to water, but there was something slightly off about the way it sloshed against the glass as he handled it. 

“Ms. Adler, Professor Slughorn cannot stop bragging about how well you’ve performed in his class,” Snape began, his voice slow and heavy with cruelty. “Perhaps you’d like to tell Draco what is in this vial?” 

I swallowed, my saliva nearly choking me. I knew, and knowing only increased my terror. 

“Veritaserum,” I answered, my voice quiet. Draco’s eyes widened imperceptibly.

Snape’s eyes narrowed at my lack of an honorific when addressing him, but he continued. “Correct. The truth serum, as it is more commonly known. Quite a difficult potion to brew, but it seemed the situation called for it. Mr. Malfoy, have you noticed that Ms. Adler has a certain... _ habit  _ of being places she isn’t meant to be?” Snape inquired, a cold glint in his beady eyes.

Draco swallowed softly. The question wasn't rhetorical and he seemed to hesitate with his answer. Snape turned around, an eyebrow quirked up questioningly. “Well, Draco?”

“Yes, sir,” Draco answered, his eyes jumping to mine and darting away again once he saw me watching him. 

_ Bastard. _

Snape nodded, turning his attention back on me. “It also seems that Ms. Adler, nosy as she is, knows about certain things she should not. Isn’t that right?” He asked me, uncorking the vial.

I didn’t respond, but held his gaze as he drew up some of the clear liquid into the dropper attached to the lid. I knew what was about to happen, and I knew there was no way to stop it, but I still clamped my jaw shut as hard as I could. That damn liquid was  _ not _ going in my mouth, not if I had anything to say about it. 

Snape sneered at me, which was the most emotion I had ever seen the uptight man express. “As amusing as your antics are, I have no patience for disobedient students. Either you can open your mouth and retain some sense of pride, or Draco will assist me in doing so. I can assure you the second option would be far from pleasant, especially considering your past history with the boy.”

So he didn’t know about any of the things that had happened between Draco and I recently. Good. That meant things would be far less complicated, but it was a small drop of relief in an ocean of panicked terror. 

  
  


Still, I kept my lips sealed shut even as Snape motioned for Draco to approach us. Draco wouldn’t look at me, even as Snape instructed him to stand behind me. The warmth of his torso radiated towards me, making me long to lean back and get even a bit of heat in this frozen office. It wasn’t because I was craving his touch, I told myself. 

“Draco, if you would, I’d like to get on with this,” Snape said. 

Draco’s arm curled into view from behind me, his hand coming around to grip my jaw. His cold touch electrified my skin as I remembered the last time he had touched me like that. This, however, was not a romantic caress; with his thumb on one side and his four fingers on the other, he found the hinge of my jaw and dug his fingers into the soft flesh. His other went over my nose, clamping a tight seal around it that made it impossible to breathe. A dull pain pulsed around where he touched, making me wince. After a few moments, my lungs were already burning with lack of oxygen and forced me to open my mouth as Draco pressed into the joint. 

The moment my mouth opened, Snape swooped in and placed three drops in quick succession onto my tongue. As soon as Snape had completed his task, Draco dropped his hand from my face, the faint sensation of his touch still floating over my cheeks. I couldn’t taste anything, but as soon as Draco stepped away, I spat roughly onto the floor, trying to rid my mouth of the vile serum. 

“Pathetic,” Snape drawled, eyeing me with disgust. “Now, shall we begin?”

I felt... _ normal _ , but that didn’t offer much comfort as Draco returned to Snape’s side, ever the valiant lap dog. I wished that he would just look at me, even once, so I could read whatever was going on in his head. As guarded as Draco liked to keep his emotions, I’d noticed that with me, he had a tendency to drop that wall of defense. That made me sound pompous; I wasn’t, not really. It was just the truth, at least most of the time. 

Snape slid back his black sleeves with two quick flicks of his wrists. “Let us begin with something easy, just to show Draco how this works,” he said, and my stomach dropped. 

“Ms. Adler, what House were you sorted into?”

As if I had no power over my mouth, the rest of my body froze as I blurted out, “Ravenclaw.” It was a terrible feeling, worse than any I had felt before. I had truly had no control over my words, which only made my panic rise higher as Snape nodded, satisfied. 

“Sometimes, as I’m sure you are both aware, a student does not only belong to a single House, correct? Out of sheer curiosity, and because I have my suspicions, what House did the Sorting Hat first place you in?” Snape asked. 

That same feeling of control being seized from me swept over my body and my mouth spat out the word, “Slytherin.” My cheeks flushed red at my admission. 

Draco let his shock slip through the dense barrier of calm he had constructed, and Snape, the  _ bastard _ , had the gall to look smug. “I pride myself in being rather adept at spotting imposters, Ms. Adler, and you certainly are a snake hiding in the eagle’s nest, are you not?”

“Yes,” I was forced to say, even as my stomach churned. I was, I realized. I was, and I had done a damn good job of fooling everyone, even myself. 

Snape leaned in, his shadowy form towering over me like a dark colossus. His breath smelled slightly rancid, making me fight the urge to wrinkle my nose at the sour scent. I found myself thinking the pasty palor of his skin was nothing like Draco’s statuesque paleness. 

“Interesting, isn’t it, Draco, that this little wretch is just like the House she professes to hate. She, though she does her best to lie and hide it, is just like you and I,” Snape observed.

_ I am nothing like them. I’m not. _

“How ironic, really. It makes sense, though, that you would be the unfortunate soul to stumble upon a rather private conversation I was having the other day.”

I thought I had felt sick before; I thought I had felt dread, and panic, and terror, but I had been wrong. I had been so  _ very _ wrong, because the feeling that crashed over me now was enough to make my heart nearly stop. I hadn’t let myself think this was why Snape had found me, but subconsciously, I knew it couldn’t have been for any other reason. 

Opting to say nothing, I focused on a flickering candle atop one of the shelves of ingredients lining the back wall on the left side of the door. My mind was reeling as I tried to come up with a solution, but for all my supposed smarts and wittiness, I could find nothing. Not unless Draco suddenly had a change of heart, and god knew that would never happen. Snape placed both his hands on either of the chair arms, creating a wall of inky seclusion between me and the rest of the room. 

“Ms. Adler,” Snape started, and I could feel my palms growing sweaty against the rough wood of the chair. “Did you happen to overhear the conversation in question?” 

I gritted my teeth, as if I could keep my mouth from responding. My bones groaned with the effort, but the serum won out. “Yes, I did,” I grunted, my eyes still on the dancing white candle in the back of the room. 

“What exactly did you hear?” 

_ Shitshitshitshitshit _ \--

And then my mouth, my fucking traitor of a goddamn mouth, recounted every word of the conversation I had heard between Snape and Voldemort, as if I were a tape recorder being replayed. I tried as hard as I could, so hard that I swore my jaw was going to snap, but I couldn’t stop my lips from forming the words that destroyed any semblance of safety I would probably ever have. I even let loose the part about Draco, about him struggling to complete his duty. At that, I could’ve sworn the faintest pink dusted Draco’s face, but I didn’t dare look at him. 

Leaning back, taking his horrid stench with him, a haughty smile slowly spread across Snape’s face. “As I thought. Now, Draco, do you see why this nosy little girl must be taken care of?”

_ Taken care of?  _

Draco didn’t respond, so Snape whirled around, facing the blond boy. “Draco. I asked you a question, boy.”

“Yes, sir,” Draco mumbled. 

“And what do you think the best course of action is?” Snape inquired, and I couldn’t help but feel as though this was some sort of test for him. 

Draco’s brows drew together in confusion. “What do I think?”

Snape sighed, half growing as he spoke. “Yes,  _ Draco _ ,” he spat. “Since you insist that you are old enough to handle such matters, what do you think should be done about Ms. Adler?” 

Finally,  _ finally _ , he looked at me, and I felt my chest tighten with anticipation. Surely, Draco deciding my fate had to be better than Snape being the one to do so. Right?

He was absolutely unreadable as he studied me, bound and helpless in the chair I was occupying. Stepping forward, he tilted his head as he considered his answer. It strangely felt as though this was some sort of turning point for the two of us, like whatever he decided to do would decide the fate of our skewed relationship. 

“Obliviation,” Draco said finally, turning to Snape. “If she forgets what she heard, she’s not a threat. Doing anything else would take too much effort and could raise too much suspicion. She does have people who would notice if she went missing, believe it or not.”

_ Dick _ . 

But Obliviation? I could live with that; I would rather forget this whole mess, as selfish as it sounded. It had been weighing far too heavily on my mind, and I couldn’t be of any help, anyways. It probably was best I go about my life never knowing this happened in the first place. At least then, I wouldn’t feel so responsible for the school’s safety. 

It wasn’t my fight, not really. What could I, a Muggleborn Ravenclaw, do about any of this? Nothing; the answer was absolutely nothing. 

Snape hummed quietly, as if pleased by Draco’s suggestion. I felt my shoulders sag in relief, aching from the tense position I had been holding them in. “That is an acceptable decision. The sooner this,” he gestured to me, clearly annoyed by my presence even though he had been the one to hold me there, “ _ girl _ is gone, the less time the Dark Lord has to wait. And He is not a patient master.”

Pulling his wand from his stormcloud of dark robes, Snape stood in front of me, ready to cast the spell. Draco seemed to hesitate, but then spoke. “Professor, if you’ll allow me, I’d like to do it. No one better than me to teach this nosy bitch a lesson.”

I tried to hide my flinch at his words, but Draco caught my sudden movement. I refused to acknowledge that, though. Letting his words hurt me was only making things worse. 

Snape lowered his wand. “You must do it correctly, or there will be consequences. Do you understand? Not from me, Draco.”

Draco nodded, and Snape tucked away his wand. “Quickly, then. I have a meeting I must attend, but I trust you will have no problems performing such a simple spell?”

“Yes, sir. I won’t disappoint you,” Draco promised. 

“It wouldn’t be me you’d disappoint,” Snape answered, sending a shiver down my spine. 

Draco watched Snape stalk out of the room, his shoulders sagging slightly as the door clicked shut behind the professor. Moving his attention back onto me, he looked at me for a moment until I sighed angrily, squirming slightly in my chair. 

“You’re a damn bastard, you know that? A bastard and a fucking prick,” I spat. 

“I just saved your ass  _ twice _ and you’re calling me names? How predictable,” Draco responded, shaking his head. “Don’t you understand that Snape was fully prepared to get rid of you if we didn’t come up with another solution? He’ll do anything for--” Draco stopped, running his hand through his white hair. “You know how Snape is. You should be grateful.”

I scowled. “If you had just fucking left me alone this year, neither of us would be here, so who’s fault is it, really?” 

Draco’s eyes turned cold as he approached. My hands felt clammy as he pulled out his wand, pointing the instrument between my eyes. “Lucky for you, you’re going to forget any of this ever happened. I don’t expect thanks from you anyway, but you could at least be civil.”

“Civil?” I laughed sarcastically. “Coming from the guy who helped tie me up in a chair in this rank, dusty office.”

“It isn’t my fault you chose to not mind your own damn business and snooped around,” Draco snapped. “I thought you were smarter than that!”

“And I thought Death Eaters weren’t allowed inside Hogwarts, so I guess we were both wrong!” I shot back. 

Draco snarled, dropping his raised arm and placing his hands on the back of my chair on either side of me. He leaned in, his familiar scent making me almost sigh as the warm musk hit me. 

_ Stupid. Stupid. Pull it together _ . 

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Draco growled. “You think you know, but you have no damn idea what’s going on.”

“I know that--” I started, but I shut my mouth. Now wasn’t the time to be a smartass; that could come after there wasn’t an immediate threat of danger looming over my head. 

Draco’s eyes darkened. “You know  _ what _ ?” 

The veritaserum apparently was still coursing through my system, because I answered, “That you’re having doubts. That He Who Must Not Be Named thinks that you’re not going to be able to complete the task he gave you.”

Draco’s face drained of blood, which shocked me. I had never seen so much fear present in the Slytherin before. “You heard wrong, then. That isn’t true.”

“You asked, I answered.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever despised someone as much as I despise you,” he said viciously, his eyes searching my own for a reaction that I wasn’t going to give him. 

Because I was feeling brave, or maybe stupid, I said, “Liar.”

“You know what?” Draco barked. “I’m sick of you. I’m ready to be done with this whole thing.”

I snorted. “Feeling’s mutual, you asshole.”

Draco pulled back, anger burning in his eyes. “ _ Obliviate!” _ he shouted, but I noticed his voice trembling a bit and his wand dipping slightly before my vision went dark. 

_ I couldn’t feel the chair beneath me, nor were my hands and feet still tied. My eyes were shut, but it seemed I was awake, because I could hear the soft thump of music from the room behind the wall I was leaning against. Someone’s hands were roaming my thighs and hips, creating trails of sparking heat as they traveled.  _

_ I opened my eyes, the world suddenly spinning as I realized how drunk I was. Draco’s lips were pressing fiery kisses to the sensitive skin of my neck, making moans bubble up in my chest as he worked. His hands were gripping my hips as if it were his lifeline, and his own were pressed into my pelvis, grinding against me softly. A breathy whine left my mouth as Draco scraped his teeth against my skin, a pleasant pain erupting as he did.  _

_ My shirt was half unbuttoned, Draco’s matching, and my entire body felt too hot and too clothed. All I wanted in that moment, more than anything, was to feel Draco’s hands on every inch of my bare skin. I went to tug his shirt off and this seemed to shock Draco out of his frenzy because he pulled back, causing me to freeze at his abrupt reaction. He shook his head. “You...no. We can’t.” _

_ If I had been any less drunk, embarrassment would’ve crippled me, but instead I felt only disappointment, even with my clothes rumpled and half-undone. “What?" It was the only thing I could think to say.  _

_ Draco sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. "Elaine, you’re drunk.” _

_ “So?” I asked, furrowing my brow. Why did it suddenly matter so much? _

_ “So,” He repeated, an edge of impatience lining his voice. “You don’t know what you’re doing. I-” Draco hesitated, squeezing his eyes shut as if he were clearing his head, trying to convince himself. “I don’t...I don’t want to be another terrible thing you associate with getting drunk like-like-”  _

_ As muddled as my brain was, I still felt bewildered at his confession. I didn’t think he could be that conscious of how I felt. “I-what?” _

_ He looked at me, clearly uncomfortable, though I didn’t know if it was a result of the situation or the topic at hand. “I shouldn’t have even kissed you back. I’m sorry. You don’t know what you’re doing.” _

_ Disappointment drowned my previously lust-filled haze and I couldn’t stop the dismay twisting my face as he spoke.  _

_ Of course he regrets kissing you. Don’t be daft. _

_ “Oh,” I answered lamely, suddenly feeling much more sober and oddly bare. Like I had told a massive secret and been humiliated for it. “Sorry, then.” _

_ It was odd, the mixture of lingering arousal and self-hatred that settled like a stone in my stomach. It made me feel far sicker than any alcohol could. What made me even more nauseous was the shame in Draco’s eyes. I was trying to convince myself that it wasn’t because of me, but that nasty, ever-present voice in the back of my mind whispered that he pushed me away because he couldn’t even bear the thought of. . . . us together like that. _

_ Suddenly, I felt as if I was going to be sick and Draco stepped back, an unusual look of concern on his face. I noticed fleetingly that the porcelain skin of his chest was exposed between the white columns of his button-up, which reminded me that I was practically half-naked. Mortification shot through me and I bent down, frantically pulling the sides of my cardigan closed and redoing what buttons hadn't broken off.  _

_ “I think you should go back to your dorm. Sleep,” Draco spoke softly, softer than I’d ever heard it. I knew that that tone would run through my mind on repeat for the next few days. I already hated myself for it.  _

_ Dismissal. Rejection. _

_ I turned to leave, humiliation burning my skin, but I felt Draco’s hand reach out, stopping me. The alcohol in my system didn’t help the confusion that addled my mind as he did so.  _

_ “I--” he began, but stopped, sighing roughly. “Fuck,” he mumbled. “It isn’t...that isn’t why, Elaine.” _

_ I felt my forehead crinkle as I furrowed my brows. “What do you mean?” _

_ Draco sighed again, rubbing his face with his free hand. His hand was still messy from my touch a few moments earlier, his muscled chest still exposed from my attempt at removing his shirt, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. “You’re so difficult when you’re drunk,” he swore, shaking his head. “I mean, Elaine, that I--fuck,” he cursed again. “Why is this so damn hard?” He asked, more to himself than me.  _

_ “Just say it,” I told him, and it felt like my words were tilting as they left my mouth. “It’s not hard, you know. You don’t like me like that. I get it.” _

_ Draco spun me, making me face him head on. “You’re about as bright as a rock sometimes, you know that?” _

_ “Wh--” _

_ “No, let me finish,” Draco said, impatience lining his voice. “I’m not going to...I can’t do this with you, not when you’re like this.” _

_ “Like what?” I asked, still rather confused.  _

_ Draco sighed again, his voice full of frustration. “Merlin’s fucking beard, Elaine. Drunk, you idiot. I’m not fucking doing this with you when you’re so drunk you can barely stand. You may think poorly of me, but even I wouldn’t do that.” _

_ I huffed. “I can stand just fine.”  _

_ “That isn’t the point,” Draco growled. “You really have to make everything in my life difficult, don’t you?” _

_ “Then what is the point?” I challenged.  _

_ “The point is, if you’d ever shut up, that I--I care too much about you to have sex with you and not have you remember it the next day,” Draco whisper-shouted. “Merlin, as much as you drive me insane and make me want to throttle you...fuck, Elaine. You deserve better than that.” _

_ I had to have misheard him; the alcohol had to have made me mishear him, because there was no way in hell Draco Malfoy just told me that he cared about me. “What?” I said, because that was all I really could say.  _

_ Draco glared at me. “Do your ears not work? I said you fucking deserve better than that. Bloody fucking hell,” he muttered. _

_ “You-you care about me? Now that is news to me. I thought you hated my guts,” I told him, feeling like everything was swaying as I looked at him.  _

_ I guess it had been me swaying, not the world, because Draco reached out his other hand, grabbing my shoulder to steady me, and everything stilled once more. _

_ “You are so damn drunk,” Draco muttered. “Insufferable, really.” _

_ I felt my bottom lip curl into a pout. “Well, that isn’t very nice.” _

_ “I’m not very nice,” Draco shot back.  _

_ “Yes, you are,” I responded. “Sometimes, when we’re alone and you’re hurt, sometimes you’re nice.” _

_ Draco shook his head. “That’s different. Doesn’t count.” _

_ “Why not?” I demanded, earning another annoyed huff from the boy.  _

_ “It just...it just doesn’t,” Draco said. “Can you just get back to your dorm so this night can be over with? I’m exhausted.” _

_ I didn’t want to leave him, though, even with his insults and his clear, high level of frustration. “Why? I’m really fine,” I said, but even to me, my words sounded a bit odd, as if they were coming from underwater.  _

_ “No,” Draco countered, his jaw clenched. “You aren’t. And I don’t trust the idiotic boys that go to this school, even if you were.” _

_ I merely blinked at him, clearly not following what he was saying. The colors of his face, the hallway, the dancing lights, swirled as I did, making me suck in a calming breath as my stomach tightened with nausea.  _

_ “It’s late,” he elaborated. “Bad things happen late at night.” _

_ “Is-is this a bad thing?” I asked, my courage stoked by the liquor in my veins. “Most of the time we’re together, it’s late at night. So if bad things happen at night, then that means you think everything we do is bad. Do you think it’s bad?” I questioned.  _

_ My words grew more slurred with each second, but I couldn’t stop the flow of speech from flooding out of my mouth. “And if you think this is--is bad, then why do you keep finding me at night? Cus I’ll--I’ll tell you what, Draco,” I said, pointing at him. “I-I think you like doing bad things with me.” _

_ “Why in the hell would I like doing things with you?” Draco asked, his brow raised in question. “You bother me.” _

_ I snorted, a too-loud, too-obnoxious sound. “No, I don’t. Not really. You care about me,” I told him haughtily. “Remember? You just said so.”  _

_ “I-That isn’t--” _

_ “I care about you, too, you know. I shouldn’t, but I do. You’re all I can think about lately,” I informed him simply, unaware of the gravity of my statement. My mind seemed to want to just dump everything out tonight, for all the world, for Draco, to see.  _

_ Draco stilled, his silver eyes a mesmerizing shade of metal under the dim corridor lighting. “You what?”  _

_ “I care about you. You, mister Draco Malfoy, are all I can think about,” I repeated. “You and your stupid blond hair and your silver eyes and your hands and-and your…” I trailed off as my eyes landed on his lips, still rosy and flushed from our kisses earlier.  _

_ Draco seemed to let out a soft exhale as he realized where my gaze was pointed. “Elaine, you--no. You’re just...you don’t care about me. Not like that. It’s the alcohol talking.” _

_ “You don’t know how I feel,” I told him.  _

_ “I know how you should feel,” Draco said. “I am the last person you should care about.”  _

_ I sighed. “All you ever do is go on about how things can’t or shouldn’t be. Why don’t you ever just talk about what they are?”  _

_ Draco ran his hand through his hair again, but strangely, his frustration was only making me want him more. Maybe he was right; maybe I was really, really drunk. He mumbled something to himself, shaking his head as he did so. That only piqued my curiosity, because I had been too afraid to ask him that question before, and I longed for an answer. _

_ “Why?” I insisted, impatience thrumming through me. _

_ “Why?” Draco repeated. “You want to know why?” _

_ I nodded, as if to say, “That’s why I asked.” _

_ “Because, Elaine,” he said, the way his mouth formed my name making a wanting ache ripple through me. “Because things are rarely so simple. I wouldn’t be surprised that you don’t understand that, though. You just move through life, doing whatever you damn well please, and you never think about the consequences. Most of us do not have that luxury. Most of us do not just get to fall in love with whoever we want.” _

_ His small insults were erased as his last sentence left his mouth, making my throat tighten. “Fall in love?” _

_ “That isn’t--” Draco stopped and let out a string of curses. “Damn it all,” he whispered to himself. Meeting my eyes, there was something in his look that made me stop everything, my breath freezing in my lungs. “Yes, okay? Fall in love.” _

_ “You-you…?” I said, unable to form a proper sentence due to the shock that was fogging up my mind.  _

_ “Yes, Elaine. Merlin’s beard, you’re daft sometimes. I--” Draco grit his teeth, as if saying it was physically painful. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”  _

_ Every word I tried to say seemed to stick in my throat, leaving me gaping at him like a fish gasping for air. Draco shook his head again, as if he were trying to clear it. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he said.  _

_ “Why?”  _

_ “Because, this--you and I, the very idea of us shouldn’t even exist. Just forget I said anything,” Draco told me, and there it was again, that icy wall of isolation he threw up every time he faced something difficult.  _

_ “I can’t just forget it,” I disagreed. “But-but--” _

_ Draco clenched his fist, letting out a sharp breath. “Then I’ll just have to make you.” _

It felt like I was slammed back into my body, making me gasp for air as I returned to the present. Draco looked stunned, as if he had just seen something terrible. 

“What the  _ hell _ was that?” I asked, reaching up to push my hair out of my face before feeling the rough bindings encircling my wrists again. I winced as they tore at the tender flesh of my wrists, a reminder that I had been tied up for a while now. “Draco, what--”

“What happened?” Draco asked, dropping his wand entirely as I took another deep, shaky breath. 

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. What  _ had _ I just seen? That was not how I remember that night going, even in my intoxicated state. There was no way I had remembered things so incorrectly. 

“What happened?” Draco asked again, this time with more urgency. 

The truth serum seemed to have worn off, because I didn’t feel compelled to answer his question immediately. I ran through the events again in my mind quickly, as if on fast forward, as I chewed on my bottom lip. I recalled now, what had really happened the night of Dean’s party. Everything the memory had shown me, and--

“You Obliviated me?” I asked Draco disbelievingly. 

“Just now? No, Adler, of course not,” Draco lied, but it was weak. 

“Yes, you did. You tried to Obliviate me just now,  _ and _ you Obliviated me after Dean’s party!” I accused, feeling anger boil up within me. 

Draco’s face paled as I exposed his secret. “How-how do you know about-”

“You fucked up the spell, you bloody idiot” I hissed. “You fucked it up, and it somehow made me remember  _ everything _ from that night.” 

“Everything?” Draco repeated. 

“Everything,” I confirmed, nearly beside myself with lividity. “You did  _ not _ have the fucking right to do that! My memories are  _ mine _ ,” I seethed. 

“I did it to protect you.”

“Bullshit!” I shouted, loud enough that Draco had the audacity to hush me. “You can’t just change my memory like that! If you didn’t want me to know you’re fucking in love with me, you should’ve held your damn tongue.”

Draco straightened. “I should’ve held my tongue? You confessed feelings too, or did you just want to ignore that part?” 

“So what if I did?” I shot back. “At least I wasn’t so fucking embarrased of them that I Obliviated you. Unlike you, I can actually face the consequences of my actions!”

“Don’t you fucking talk to me like that!” Draco told me, towering over me as he spoke. “I have faced the consequences of  _ everything _ I’ve done with you this year. You think I want to love you? You think I  _ want _ to have feelings for you? Because I don’t!”

I clenched my jaw, aching to get out of this chair and show Draco just how angry I was at him. “Like I want to feel this way either! Why the hell would I want to care for someone that fucking hates my guts?” 

I didn’t say love on purpose. I didn’t need anything else to complicate this situation. Draco certainly didn’t need the ego boost of having someone he tormented for so many years confess her love for him. 

“I don’t hate you, you daft asshole,” Draco snarled. “I wish I did, though.” 

“Could’ve fucking fooled me,” I said. “Let me out of this damn chair,  _ now _ .”

Draco shook his head, even as I tugged on my restraints. “No. No, I’m not letting you out until you calm down and understand that I did that to  _ protect _ you.” 

“Guess I’m dying here then, because I will never understand why you thought it was okay to violate me like that,” I countered. 

I  _ did _ feel violated in an odd sort of way. He had taken my memories, my thoughts, which were supposed to mine and mine alone, and twisted them to save his stupid pride because I hadn’t said it back right away. 

I think I might’ve, if he had given me even a few more moments to think. 


	29. Convergent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi all! not only is this an early upload, but there's a surprise in the last half of the chapter so i hope you all enjoy<3

“You’re not dying here,” he retorted, clearly resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Stop being dramatic.”

" _ Do not _ screw with me right now. It's not the time."

Draco, still looming over me, pushed up his sleeves, revealing his strong, unblemished forearms. The way his veins traveled down his arms like strokes of a paintbrush made a shameful heat blossom in me as he stared down at me. “Threatening me? Really?” He chided, making me scowl at him.

“Not a threat, asshole, a reminder,” I said. “Would you please let me out of this? The ropes are starting to hurt.”

I made sure my voice sounded slightly pained as I spoke. It didn’t truly hurt but I was hoping to inspire a bit of sympathy. Or at least make him feel guilty enough to untie me. 

A flash of worry flickered in his eyes before he caught on. “See? Dramatic.” 

I let out a frustrated huff, feeling the subtle strain on my ribs. I’d been sitting here too long. My legs were falling asleep. I tried to move a bit, feeling the bite of numbing pinpricks, like ants crawling up my legs. 

As I did, I let out a hiss of pain as the rope scraped harshly against the tender, red skin of my wrists. The sound must’ve been more convincing than my last performance, because his frown grew slightly as he moved to inspect me. 

He tugged back the material as much as the tight knot would allow, getting a clearer look at the skin. I looked as he did, wincing at the inflamed state of my arm. It was red, almost flaky from the friction of the rope, and even the cool air of Snape’s office felt too extreme on the hot skin. 

Draco looked back at me, concern barely discernible, but still present, oddly enough. He seemed to think for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek as he did. “If I undo these,” he said, gesturing to the restraints, “You have to promise you’ll stay and hear me out, okay?”

My first instinct was to say no, to laugh at him for thinking I’d want to listen to his excuses, but it was growing more and more painfully annoying to be trapped by the twine, so I nodded. He let out a breath as he procured his wand, then muttered the counterspell to the one that had previously been cast. 

Instantly, the material vanished from my chair, and I brought my wrists to my body, rubbing them like I had seen prisoners do in movies I’d watched with my father when I was younger. My sleeves had ridden up with the action, and I noticed Draco’s gaze caught on the scar that traversed the length of my forearm. Quickly, not really caring that it was obvious, I slid my robe sleeve down, hiding the gruesome mark that made my stomach revolt whenever I looked at it. 

Warily, Draco stepped back, as if he thought I was going to bolt for the door. To be fair, I did think about it, but I had promised him I would stay, so stay I would. Once he was sure I was staying put, as I stretched out my legs, he leaned against the table next to me, his arms crossed in front of him. 

“I need you to just  _ listen _ , okay?” 

“Bu-”

Draco held up a hand, his silver ring glinting softly. “ _ Listen _ , instead of talking, Elaine. Just for once in your life, okay?”

I bit back the indignant remark that arose, mimicking his crossed arms and leaning back in my chair. Letting out a slow breath through my nose, as if I was breathing out the anger and annoyance that was directed at him, I raised an eyebrow, indicating he should go ahead. 

He ran his hands through his hair, which, I was beginning to notice, seemed to be a nervous habit of his. “I know that erasing that memory feels like I took something from you, and I did, you’re right. Memories are...they’re meant to be ours. Really, they’re the only thing that are truly solely ours, aren’t they? But,” Draco let out a sharp breath. “Sometimes...they can be used against us. Sometimes, people invade the only real place of solitude we have. Mine-mine…”

A pause, a breath, a moment. 

“Mine were. You think that I took that memory from you because I regretted it, yes?”

A nod from me urged him to continue. I wanted to say...well, I wanted to say a lot, but I wanted to hear why he had done what he did.  _ Needed _ , really. Needed to know why he stole from me something that should’ve been a memory that set my heart racing from excitement, not pain. 

“Because you think...you think terrible things about me, or at least sometimes you do,” Draco went on. 

I did, that was true. He didn’t need a confirmation from me though, so I didn’t respond at all. “And you’re right to think those things. I’m not going to argue with that. I’ve made my choices. So has everyone else. You would be far from the first to think those things about me, but you know that. I am well aware of how this school perceives me.” 

Hearing Draco talk about himself in such a plain and upfront matter was disconcerting, to say the least. Knowing that he was aware of the whispers and rumors flying around the school that mentioned his name shouldn’t have surprised me, but perhaps I thought it should’ve bothered him more than it did, or at least more than he was letting on right now. 

“So yes, I do shitty things, Elaine. You know that better than anyone. I’ve been a massive arse to you since we’ve met, though you’re not entirely innocent yourself. There is something about you that drives me insane, and I still can’t figure out if it’s in a good way or in a horrid, nails-on-a-chalkboard sort of way.” Draco said, twirling his wand between his fingers as he spoke. 

I was almost glad he wasn’t looking at me, because I wasn’t doing a damn thing to hide the array of emotions that crossed my face as he continued to speak. In his typical fashion, he was taking ages to get to the point, but I found myself not minding the long, winding route his voice was taking. 

Even with the insult-centred detours he was taking along the way. 

“Every time I think I’ve decided, you do something that makes me feel the other way, and really, it’s quite annoying. I’ve never met someone so adept at worming their way into my life, especially into the parts that I don’t allow anyone to see. You just always seem to find me at my lowest, or maybe being around you causes that to happen. You don’t even manage to stay away after I do things I’m sure will scare you off.”

He’s rambling; he’s nervous. I don’t know if I’d ever seen him so jittery, though if I hadn’t spent so much time around him this year, I would’ve thought nothing was amiss.

“I don’t know if that’s just an incredibly unlikely bit of bad luck or if you just have a penchant for unsafe situations. Nothing about  _ us _ is safe at all. But…” 

Another pause, another moment that had me on edge. 

“But I didn’t erase that memory because I regretted it.”

Draco finally stopped twirling his wand, his eyes darting to mine, and I found myself quite frozen as he took me in. The pause had me nearly opening my mouth to ask why he  _ didn’t _ regret it, but I found I’d had a spectacular talent of ruining these revealing moments Draco so rarely gifted me. As hard as it was, I kept quiet as Draco scanned my face, his steely eyes returning more than once to my mouth. 

At least I was keeping my glances quick and unnoticeable. 

_ Then why- _

Draco stood slowly, tucking his wand away, his full attention on my relaxed body in the rickety wooden chair. He crossed the short distance between us in a single step, his dark figure even more imposing in my seated position. And then his cologne hit me,  _ hard _ , and I nearly reached out a trembling hand just to try and satiate the want in my core to touch him that was starting to burn. “I did it,” he said, his gaze mouthwateringly intense and heated. “I did it, Elaine,”  _ god, the way he says my name _ , “Because I don’t remember the last time I meant something so much.” 

_ Oh.  _ I opened my mouth, but Draco shot me a stern look that had me both instantly closing my mouth and embarrassingly warm. “I said, just  _ listen _ ,” Draco demanded, but there was little true rage in his voice. 

His hands twitched at his sides, as if he was about to reach out for something but stopped himself. I found myself wishing he’d done it. 

“I meant it, and that’s why I had to do what I did,” Draco told me, his blond hair falling in his face as he tilted his head down at me. “You saw Snape; he’ll do anything to get what he wants. That includes cracking your head open like a chest and digging through the memories that are inside.”

It wasn’t difficult at all to tell he was speaking from experience. 

“It was an unwise thing to say,” he paused, flicked his eyes down to my mouth, then back up, “I didn’t want it used against me.”

_ Huh, _ I thought. Not exactly a tear-jerking confession of feelings, but I’d never heard Draco speak so plainly about his emotions. He was always so incredibly guarded, so on-edge, that it was impossible to know anything about him while surrounded by others. 

It seemed he was finished with his speech, so I said, “You didn’t want it used against you.”

Not exactly a question, but not entirely a mere statement. 

Instead of a reprimand, Draco nodded, his white hair catching the odd candlelight. “Snape’s already been through my head, before you and I--before this started. He trusts me without question. You, however, have made yourself a target because you refused to leave things well enough alone.”

_ Maker, _ it had been an accident. I don’t know why no one appeared to catch that fact. 

“Snape, if he suspected  _ anything _ , would go after you with no hesitation or remorse. If he saw that, you and I would both be in deep shit,” Draco explained. 

The idea of Snape, that greasy, vile man, prodding my memories like they were nothing more than an experiment in a lab, made disgust ripple through me. I was still upset at Draco, but now, it wasn’t really about him taking the memory away. It was wrong; he had admitted that, but strangely, I could see why he had done it. I just wished, foolishly, that he had let me enjoy that memory, even once, before he tainted it. 

“Oh,” I responded. 

“Oh?” Draco repeated. “That’s all you have to say?”

I shook my head. “No, it isn’t.” Just all I  _ could _ say immediately after hearing all that. 

Draco huffed a sigh. “Then please, enlighten me.”

“Impatient asshole,” I mumbled, causing him to roll his silvery eyes. I thought for a moment, chewing on my bottom lip. I knew how I felt; that wasn’t why I had to take a moment. There was no guarantee Draco wouldn’t steal this memory from me as well. Depending on how this went, I might just ask him to do it regardless. 

“First, I’m still angry at you for erasing my memories, so keep that in mind,” I reminded him. “I mean it. That was so far beyond okay, and if you ever do it again, I’ll hex you so hard you can’t talk.”

“I--”

“And  _ second _ ,” I said, glaring at him. Sure, I had to stay quiet while he talked, but he could interrupt me. Draco’s jaw tensed, but he cut himself off. “I...understand why you did it,” I told him, a fact that shocked even myself. 

Draco clearly was feeling the same because he leaned his head to the side, his eyebrows raised. 

“That doesn’t mean, though, that it was okay,” I continued, because it  _ wasn’t _ . “And it doesn’t mean I forgive you, if you even care about that.”

“I do,” he answered, so softly I barely caught it. 

I didn’t say anything to that, because I needed to get all my thoughts out while they were still straight and being near Draco for long amounts of time tended to make my brain act strangely. “Taking my memories was a massive violation. Taking the truth serum, too, you know. It-it doesn’t feel  _ right _ to have someone be able to have such complete access to my head,” I said, letting out a shuddering breath. 

“But...I do understand, Draco. Even if it was for selfish reasons, I understand. It’s an explanation, mind you,  _ not _ an excuse. But I...I don’t think you did it to be vindictive. Especially after…” I hesitated. 

_ Especially after you stopped anything from happening that night because you felt guilty about me being drunk. _

A question sparked in Draco’s eyes, but still, he held his silence. To tell him would mean revealing just how much that small moment had meant to me. It had meant more than I’d ever be able to express; such a small thing, really, to be grateful for, especially because it was something that should’ve been considered merely a decent thing to do. But with all the men in my life I had been close to, every one of them had done something that cracked a small part of my ability to trust. 

Draco, with the exception of erasing my memory, hadn’t. He had belittled me and made fun of me and made me feel as though I could strangle him on multiple occasions and I’d never feel guilty about doing so, but he had never done something that made me feel as though I had been misled. 

In the strangest turn of events, that made him different from all the other men I had had any sort of relationship with, romantic or otherwise. I didn’t know if it made him  _ good _ , but it made him different. 

I cleared my throat, feeling shaky as I did. “Especially after you stopped things that night for-for the right reason,” I breathed. 

Draco pressed his lips into a thin line, and I studied his face, not caring if he noticed. He didn’t speak; neither did I. My heart hammered as I waited for his response to my revelation. I didn’t even elaborate on what the right reason was. It didn’t feel necessary because I had a strange gut feeling that Draco already knew, that that was why he had done it. 

“People may say I’m a monster,” he acknowledged, his eyes boring into mine with purposeful intensity. “That may or may not be true, but even monsters have their limits. And…”

My breath felt heavy in my chest as he trailed off. His hand reached out, smoothing a strand of hair behind my ear that had floated in front of my face. I may have imagined it, but it felt as though his hand was unsteady as he touched me. Draco’s face was still, but the way he worried at the inside of his cheek, the way his fingers lingered even after my hair was back in place, told me that he was thinking hard about his next words. 

“And,” he repeated, the word more of a breath than anything. “And this year, hurting you has become a limit for me.” 

Things were so peculiar, so off-centered, that that confession from him had my mind stumbling over my thoughts, my chest aching with how hard my heart was pounding. 

I wasn’t delusional; I knew this...relationship, or whatever the hell Draco and I had going on, wasn’t usual, or normal, or even really entirely healthy. I wasn’t going to pretend that Draco saying he didn’t want to hurt me was a grand romantic gesture instead of a morally sound notion. 

The thing was, though, that the two of us were so hurt in such similar ways that there  _ was _ a comfort in Draco saying he wouldn’t hurt me anymore. I had been hurt by so many people this year, people that were meant to be my friends and family. Those people had still hurt me, some in ways that I was having an incredibly difficult time getting over. But Draco? My enemy? When things began to fall apart with Harry, with my father, Draco had become not  _ kinder _ , no, but he had begun reaching out to me in ways that I don’t think even he realized. Even just today, when he had seen me cornered by those gits, he had reached out. He could’ve kept walking, and no one would’ve been surprised. But Draco hadn’t. 

So sure, it wasn’t healthy, but neither was I. Neither was Draco. 

I brought my hand up to where Draco’s still lightly rested against my head. With a featherlight touch, I placed the tips of my fingers against his cold hand. A small gesture, yes, but I needed him to know. 

“You’ve...even with all the shit that’s happened between us, or maybe because of it, you…” 

How to say this right, how to express properly that the tether between us had been the only thing keeping me afloat since my father had kicked me out was more difficult than I anticipated. I thought, or maybe hoped, that it was the same for him. Maybe this was just a passing fancy, something to take our minds off of what was really suffocating us. We offered each other a bit of reprieve from the grave state of reality, and perhaps that’s all it would ever be. 

I found myself thinking I didn’t care if that’s all it was. I also found myself thinking that it was much more than that, but accepting that Draco had helped me not succumb to the massive waves of despair that so often threatened to consume me was hard enough. Even when we fought, I realized, it was good; it kept me awake instead of growing numb like I had in the past. 

How had Draco become the only steady presence in my life? 

“You’ve kept me from going insane,” I finally said. A weak way to word it, I knew. “I think that-that you’ve made me pissed off more than you’ve ever made me feel anything else, but…”

_ But that was slowly becoming untrue, wasn’t it? _

Gods above, words had never eluded me with more swiftness than they were right now. 

Draco bent down, his face now inches from mine. I pulled in a soft breath as he said, “I understand.”

And something about those two words, something about the way they  _ hit _ me right in the stomach, made me lean forward and capture his lips in a kiss that I had been craving for days now. 

_ Maker _ , I had somehow forgotten how  _ good _ his mouth felt against mine. I didn’t know how, because kissing Draco always made heat coil in my stomach almost immediately, even more so as he returned my kiss with added fervor. His lips melded with mine, his hand pressing more firmly against my face as he bent down. 

The taste of his lips was warm, sweet, so familiar that it felt like my body was singing with pleasure as I covered his hand with mine in a quiet plea not to move. With my other, I couldn’t resist the urge to card my fingers once more through his silky white hair. A low, soft sound vibrated from Draco’s throat at my touch, making my toes curl in my shoes. The sound seemed to make the desire pooling in me even deeper. It was nearly addicting, how rich and delectable his sounds of pleasure were, and I had only heard the smallest sample of them. 

I wanted to hear more; I practically needed it like I needed air. 

The angle was a bit awkward, so as painful as it was, I pulled away from his mouth only enough to put less than an inch of space between us. Draco looked at me, confusion clearly plastered on his face. 

I removed both my hands from where they were and placed them on his forearms, pushing only enough to that he understood and moved back. I went to stand, but some feeling hadn’t returned in my legs, so they wobbled. I would’ve landed quite spectacularly on my ass back on the chair, but I felt Draco’s strong arms encircle my waist, holding me up. His touch sent a lightning bolt of arousal right between my thighs. It was only worse when a subtle smirk painted his slightly reddened lips. 

“You’re rather clumsy today, Adler,” Draco muttered, his rough voice only worsening the situation between my thighs. 

My brain couldn’t even form words as Draco turned our intertwined bodies, maneuvering us until my back pressed against the dull edge of the table that lay next to the chair. His eyes didn’t leave mine once, which made it unfairly hard to breathe correctly. As I collided gently with the table, his hips pressed into mine, evidence of his arousal firm against me. 

I nearly let out a sigh at the feeling, but I caught the sound before it escaped my lips. A wicked flicker in Draco’s eyes told me he knew I could feel him against me, and before I knew it, his mouth was once again on mine. 

This time, I did let out the tiniest of whines as the combined feeling of his mouth and his hips caused fireworks to go off in my chest. I could feel just how much he was affecting me, and it was a small contribution to my pride that he couldn’t. 

Draco’s hands were settled on my hips still, but I needed them somewhere else, so I took my own and guided him to my ass. An appreciative growl sounded low and dangerous as his massive hands cupped my backside, using his grip to push my hips against his. 

At that, we both let out sounds that were utterly indecent. Draco took my lower lip between his teeth, tugging it roughly enough that I let out a whimper before swiping over it with his tongue to soothe the ache. The combination of pain and pleasure had me practically melting at his every move, especially as he pressed one last heavy, sinful kiss to my mouth before roaming down to the exposed column of my neck. 

He pressed demure kisses down the tender skin, but once he reached the base of my neck, he bit down, his teeth angry and sharp against the sensitive spot. I let out a breathy gasp at that, my hands flying to his back. I could feel him smirk against my neck as he released, once more soothing the pain with a slow swirl of his tongue that had me thinking of other places I’d like him doing that. 

Draco slotted his knee between my legs, and suddenly pressed up into my already-wet cunt, providing a friction that only sparked more lust. An uncontrolled whine erupted from me, making Draco stop and look up at me with dark eyes. My face burned red with wild embarrassment, but Draco seemed rather encouraged by my noises because he leaned to whisper in my ear, “I love the sounds you make.”

His voice sent a shudder down my spine and I was growing wetter with every passing minute. Draco wasn’t done, though, because he shifted his leg again again, brushing against the same spot. His movement was slower this time, and I could practically feel myself soaking through my underwear. I hoped that I wasn’t leaving a damp spot on his pants; even the mere thought of it made me flush with mortification. 

I couldn’t have stopped the moan that I let out even if I wanted to. Draco let out his own deep, satisfied sound at mine, and I felt my knees buckle. I had felt him before, but with that last stroke, I had felt just how well-endowed Draco was, and it was enough to make a second heartbeat begin pounding between my legs. 

“You have no idea how much time I’ve spent thinking about you, about your mouth, your body,” Draco told me, his voice strong and sultry in my ear. “About how pretty you would sound, gasping and moaning my name.”

_ Gods _ , that nearly had me collapsing with how hard my arousal hit as Draco whispered so intimately in my ear. I couldn’t help the sudden buck of my hips as he spoke, making me gasp with surprised pleasure a second time. He had thought about me like-like  _ that _ and that image ran wild in my mind as I pictured what he would do to get me to that point. 

We had never really talked about going that far; how could we? Our interactions were limited to make-outs that never felt long enough and arguments and unfortunate, dangerous situations that seemed to last much too long. To say I hadn’t thought about it though, would be a gross understatement. Lately, it seemed Draco was all I had been able to think about. 

He was even the reason I had begun slipping away to the bathroom more and more every night in order to give myself a tiny bit of relief from the extreme amount of pure  _ want _ that arose everytime he so much as crossed my mind. I would never admit that to Draco, though. Not in a million years. 

We had never talked about sex, but I was nearly going dizzy with how much I wanted it right in that moment. 

Draco slipped his hands from my ass, and I was momentarily disappointed, but he slid them down to the backsides of my thighs and lifted me as if I weighed next to nothing onto the table. The ease in which he picked me up sent warmth pooling between my trembling thighs and I spread my knees, letting Draco fit between my legs. 

Now that I was sitting on the table, when Draco grabbed the tops of my thighs and roughly yanked me forward, his cock was entirely flush with my cunt, and  _ fuck,  _ I let out a quiet gasp at the size of him. The ache that had been simmering previously in me suddenly turned into a raging fire, and I found myself  _ needing _ him in a way I’d never needed anyone, not even Harry. My school skirt rode up as he did, exposing the soft flesh of my bare thighs. The fabric pooled at the tops of my legs, still separating my soaked core from Draco’s clothed erection. 

My sound wasn’t quiet enough, though, because Draco’s eyes lit up with amusement. “You okay?” 

I nodded my head, but Draco wasn’t buying it. “I don’t believe you,” he teased, sliding a hand slowly, so  _ fucking _ slowly, up from the top of my thigh towards where the hem of my skirt barely dusted an inch below where my leg met my hip.

The thought of Draco touching me normally sent a blush across my face, but the thought of him touching me under my clothes? Feeling just how turned on I was from kissing him? I didn’t think my face had ever been redder in my entire life. 

“Tell me, Elaine,” he said, and my  _ god _ , when had him saying my name gotten so hot? “Has anyone ever touched you the way that your body is longing for right now?” His hand drifted closer, closer, but still not where my body was silently begging for him to go. “Has anyone ever made you feel so damn good you couldn’t talk afterwards?”

I shook my head again, not trusting my voice not to shake if I spoke. His hand grabbed the very top of my inner thigh, so close to my cunt that I could feel the heat of his hand. Pushing my legs further apart, he rasped, “Because I bet you’ve been needing a good fuck for Merlin knows how long, haven’t you?”

As he spoke, he pressed his hand between my legs, his fingers tracing too-soft circles around my clit that had me almost bucking my hips in search for more. I prayed that he couldn’t tell how wet I was, how turned on I was by kissing someone who had previously been my enemy. What he was to me now, I didn’t quite know, but I didn’t care at all once he pulled his hand away. 

_ Bastard, _ I thought, nearly ready to curse at him before I felt his hand hovering at the hem of my school skirt. Draco paused for a moment, making sure that I had turned my gaze toward him and not to the dizzying sight of his pale hand poised to slide under the dark fabric of my skirt. 

“You okay?” Draco asked, and this time, it wasn’t in teasing. He wanted to know if I was okay with what he was about to do, and  _ Gods _ , I very much was because I could’ve sworn I’d become so aroused that I was almost dripping onto the desk I was sitting on. 

But, I remembered with a horrific sinking feeling, we were in Snape’s office. We were in  _ Snape’s office _ , and I was not about to lose my virginity in  _ any _ office, much less the Potions professor’s. 

“Draco,” I said softly. It was more of a whine, really, as pathetic as it was, but Draco looked at me, waiting for me to continue. 

“We’re in Snape’s office,” I reminded him, glancing around at the shelves full of strange-looking ingredients. 

Draco shrugged. “So?”

I looked at him like he had lost his mind. “Draco, I am  _ not _ having sex in Severus Snape’s office!”

“Again, I ask, so? It’s not like it’s his bedroom. I’ve sex in worse places.”

I ignored the jealousy that panged through me. 

“Well, I haven’t,” I told him, glaring at him slightly. 

Draco pulled away from me, giving me a calm look. “Ah, right.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Draco quirked up a blond brow. “You haven’t had sex anywhere, have you?”

Even though my face burned with embarrassment and I longed to hide from Draco’s eyes that always seemed to see right through me, I answered, “Not yet, no.”

Not yet, because Harry had been an asshole and no one else had really ever liked me all that much. 

“Not yet?” Draco mused, and the small, devious smile that spread across his flushed lips was enough to make my thighs try and clench together. 

Draco caught the reaction, and I knew he had because the smug, confident air that rippled off him seemed to triple. When had  _ that _ gone from being the most irritating thing in the world to one of the hottest?

Fuck, I really was in deep. 

“No,” I managed to say. “Not yet.” I hoped he understood the implication.

Draco hummed, as if this was a rather interesting piece of news and not the concept of my sexual purity being discussed. “And not here?”

“Not here,” I confirmed with complete certainty. 

“Shame,” Draco mused, leaning forward and placing his hands on either side of my thighs. “I think I’d like to see you all splayed out on this desk, just for me.”

And with another cocky smirk, Draco dragged a long, slow look down my body with his eyes. “Seems like you want it just as badly as I do,” he told me with a pointed look to where I had subconsciously drawn my thighs together, clenching them for any miniscule amount of friction. 

I couldn’t even defend myself, because it was so true it almost hurt. With his lips still tilted in a smirk, he turned and left without another word, leaving me, not for the first time, aching and disappointed.

The disappointment wasn’t entirely due to the lack of sex, though, and that made my heart twist painfully. 


	30. Dark Diligence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello all! my oh my has this been a difficult week for me. ive been sick since monday and have had little motivation to write but hopefully this chapter is still enjoyable to read! draco povs are always strangely really hard for me to write but i feel like sometimes we need to see whats going on in his noggin yknow? anyways, thank you as always for all the love! enjoy<3

Seeing Elaine tied up in that chair, unable to control the words that were coming out of her mouth, had a heavy, vile feeling settling in Draco’s stomach. Listening to Elaine unwillingly confess that she was nearly a Slytherin had been shocking enough, but hearing her recount Snape’s conversation that she had heard in its entirety only made things worse. 

He wasn’t stupid; he knew full well what the Dark Lord, what most of his followers thought of Draco. Decorum regarding anyone but the Dark Lord within the Death Eaters was unheard of, and his father had done nothing to quell the suspicions and mocking comments that were directed towards him. As fearsome and horrific as they were, they were not the first to call Draco a spoiled, prissy bastard. He didn’t give a damn about them. It wasn’t them he was trying to impress. 

Sometimes, though, he found himself wondering when following in his father’s footsteps had turned from a proud willingness into a quiet obedience. 

And leave it to Elaine to stumble upon Snape while he was having a dangerous and private conversation with the Dark Lord. Draco nearly wanted to strangle her when he found that out. He wanted to ask her how she could’ve been so stupid, why she hadn’t left the moment she figured out who he had been talking to. It was a damn mystery to him how such a seemingly smart girl could get into such large amounts of trouble all the fucking time. 

Draco wanted to yell at her for not thinking about her own damn safety, but that would mean telling her he cared. 

_ Again _ . 

It turned out though, due to his raging emotions and ridiculous stupidity, that he hadn’t had to. Not after he fucked up so horrifically when trying to Obliviate Elaine after Snape finally left them alone. He should’ve waited, should’ve known better than to perform the spell while his emotions were running high, but he wanted to get Elaine out of there as quickly as possible. Snape’s office held too many unpleasant memories for him. 

Draco couldn’t believe how much seeing the betrayal and hurt in Elaine’s eyes after she remembered what he had said to her had gutted him. It had felt like being stabbed, seeing the revelation fully sink in as her temper sparked and ignited that familiar fire in her that was so often directed at him. Most times before, he had been outraged at her wrath towards him. This time, he deserved it. 

Draco knew he deserved it, and yet, he still couldn’t help as his own anger reared its ugly head in response. Elaine  _ had _ to understand that he had done it to protect her. He had done it to make sure that she would never suffer through the same horrible, invading pain of someone searching through her thoughts and ripping into her mind until only damaged, fragile bits were left that he had gone through. 

It still didn’t assuage his guilt, and he couldn’t figure out why. Draco had done it more for her benefit than because of his own embarrassment, so why did he still feel like he had committed some atrocious act of deception? 

Draco couldn’t even figure out why he had told her that he had meant what he said. Or why he had told her that sometime over the past few months, he had stopped enjoying hurling insults at her and watching her face pinch with frustration and hurt and had started, without noticing, wanting to guard her from the evils lurking around Hogwarts.

Maybe Snape had slipped him some Veritaserum as well and that was why he had poured out his heart in his own stunted, confusing way. Or maybe Draco just needed to stop making excuses for himself and be a man, like his father liked to yell at him so often. 

Laying in his bed that night, trying to hold onto the feeling of Elaine’s mouth against his, of her hands in his hair, of the inviting heat of her hips against his, Draco felt lost. Fuck, he felt so  _ lost _ . 

Elaine had said that she understood his actions. That he had stopped her from going insane. Her telling him that she didn’t forgive his actions, though, offered a strange sense of relief. She was treating him like an equal, something that he rarely received. Ever. 

Strangely, Draco knew exactly what she had been talking about. This...this  _ pull _ , this connection between them had been the only thing keeping him from being completely torn apart from the inside out. The fighting, the kissing, the tension, all offered a sort of reprieve from the swirling, suffocating pressure he was under.

Falling in love with Elaine had never been a part of the deal. He hadn’t wanted it to happen, not in the slightest. Draco hadn’t wanted to think about her constantly, hadn’t wanted to feel a twinge of pain and anger when he had seen her black eye caused by her father, he hadn’t wanted  _ any _ of this.

She was just supposed to be a  _ distraction _ , a way to release his rage when it became too much to keep to himself. That’s all she’d ever been to him. Elaine wasn’t supposed to mean a damn thing to him, but there he was, lying awake, feeling arousal stir anew at the thought of her hands, unmarred by scars and calluses like his, tugging at his hair as he kissed her like an addict devouring his fix. Merlin’s beard, her  _ hands _ , so dwarfed by his own, not tainted with cruelty like Draco’s. And recalling her words, soft but sure, telling him not  _ yet _ . 

Merlin’s fucking beard, not  _ yet _ . Who knew two fucking words could fill his mind so endlessly? Who knew two words could hold such an immense promise?

The dissonance of his thoughts and the way his mind was wrenching him in two different directions was making his head pound so painfully that Draco closed his eyes and forced himself to sleep. The darkness that unconsciousness offered was his only reprieve from his thoughts that never seemed to stop hounding him. 

When he awoke, the headache was gone, but the pit in his stomach remained throughout waking up, getting dressed, and even until breakfast. Draco hadn’t heard a word that his friends said while they ate, even tuning out Pansy’s pitchy voice a few seats away as he forced himself not to keep checking the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables for Elaine. 

Draco spotted Potter and Weasley, sitting with that obnoxious Brown girl, but Granger and Elaine were both still missing. 

He felt an arm nudge his, making him drop the food he had just scooped up with his spoon. “Oi, Malfoy,” Zabini said, raising an eyebrow. “You seem distracted.”

Draco rolled his eyes, putting up the cocky, distanced front that he shouldered around most everyone. “I’m fine,” he responded. 

“Is it--”

“You say one more word, and I’ll hex you,” Draco snapped, lowering his voice. “But no, it isn’t. I told you I’m fine.”

Zabini shot him a sharp look. “You don’t seem fine, mate. You haven’t seemed fine in a while.”

“Why does it matter?”

Across the table, Knott sighed. “Maybe because we’re your mates? Merlin’s beard, Malfoy, you act like no one’s allowed to care about you. We...we know how much stress you’re under. We’re allowed to worry.”

Draco took a bite of his breakfast before answering, mostly just to piss Zabini and Knott off by testing their patience. “Never said that. But I’m fine, so stop going on about it. I’ve got enough going on without the two of you acting like I need taken care of.” 

“God, you’re insufferable,” Knott told him, shaking his head. “Snape was looking for you yesterday, by the way. What’d he want?” 

“Just wanted to talk about an assignment. Annoying prick,” Draco answered, making Zabini snort. A lie, but he certainly wasn’t about to go into the entire story. Telling them the truth would raise questions, and he was far too tired and frustrated to answer those right now. 

“You can say that again,” Zabini replied. “Dickhead gave me a zero on that last essay we turned in because I didn’t space it correctly. Like I give a damn about dementors anyway. They were here all year third year. Why do we have to learn about them again?”

“A zero?” Draco asked. “I told you, I can--”

“I know, I know,” Zabini interrupted him. “I just figured you have enough going on, what with...everything, and all.”

“Why don’t you ever ask me for help?” Knott asked, popping a piece of fruit into his mouth. 

Zabini gave him a disbelieving look. “Because you’re a git and you never help me when I  _ do _ ask. Last time, you blew me off for that seventh year Ravenclaw.”

Knott grinned. “Mate, if you’d seen her naked, you would understand.”

Zabini rolled his eyes, which only made Knott’s grin wider. “Not my fault you’re not getting any.”

“And not my fault you’re going to catch something because you fuck any girl who’s willing,” Zabini jested.

Knott shrugged. “Worth it, I’d say. What about you? Haven’t seen you and Pansy together lately. What, she finally get sick of you?” He asked Draco.

Draco huffed. “She’s fucking insane, and I couldn’t stand to be around her for one more minute without wanting to jump off the Astronomy tower. Everyone here is either dull, ugly, or both. I’ve been a bit preoccupied besides.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound right, because I could’ve sworn I heard Potter bitching about you and Adler and a hallway just a few days ago,” Knott told Draco. 

Draco felt his stomach drop but he didn’t let his discomfort show. “Potter’s always bitching about something. Adler and him are both pains in my ass. Adler’s a Muggle, anyways. I can barely stand to be around her during Potions, and I don’t have a choice then.”

The words felt rehearsed, as if he were playing a part. 

Knott shrugged. “Whatever, mate. Just saying, I think messing around with a girl would help you let out all that stress you’ve been building up.”

“Yeah, maybe then you won’t be such an annoying git to be around,” Zabini joked, making Knott let out a barking laugh. 

Draco glared at the two of them, but he didn’t answer. What would he say? That he  _ had _ messed around with a girl just the night before, but it had only made him feel even worse? 

Zabini and Knott started talking about a girl in one of their shared classes, but Draco’s focus was elsewhere as he noticed Elaine walking into the Great Hall, accompanied by Granger and Chang. Elaine had a bright smile plastered on her face, one that he hadn’t seen in a while, and it stirred something within his chest that he refused to put a name to. 

She didn’t even glance in his direction, but Draco couldn’t take his eyes off her. Or, _ fucking hell _ , the way the white button-up school shirt she was wearing was too small, too  _ tight _ . His gaze was immovably fixed on her as she sat with Granger and Chang at the Ravenclaw table, facing his direction with Granger and Chang’s back to Draco. 

It must’ve been one of Granger’s or Chang’s shirts, because Draco guaranteed Elaine’s own never fit her like that. He would’ve noticed if it had. Last night had his desire for Elaine burning hot and low in his stomach, even after Snape had interrogated her and she had gotten so angry at him for erasing her memory. The way her shirt buttons strained against her chest as she leaned forward only made it worse.

Not for the first time that year, Draco cursed the fact that she had arrived at Hogwarts that year looking so much older, so  _ different _ . He hadn’t recognized her at first; her hair was longer, softer, her body was curved in a way that made his pants uncomfortably tight, and he had nearly been able to get over how obnoxious he found her. 

_ Nearly _ being the operative word, because once she had opened her mouth, Draco had remembered exactly why he had antagonized her so aggressively in the past. 

He wished he still found her so damn insufferable. 

Fuck, Draco wished for a lot of things. Many of which he would never voice; he barely even let himself entertain many of those wishes in his mind when he was alone. Wishing, though, didn’t do a damn thing. It certainly didn’t do Draco any good. Allowing himself to indulge in any fantasy only made it feel as though the walls around him were closing in, shoving down on him until he was sure he was going to suffocate. 

Elaine, though...he had allowed himself Elaine. Subconsciously at first, but soon, it became a reward after he had done something right. Or at least done something that didn’t make his father erupt with rage. Only short, fleeting moments that were always over too quickly. Soon, he’d have to end even that, but for now, he would let himself indulge in just one desire. 

It felt just as much like a punishment as a respite to have her as his one reward. She drove him insane, made him question if anything to do with her was even worth it, made him feel just as iniquitous as she did good. Maybe that’s why he’d been drawn to her. His mind loved to torture him, which he’d learned quite well this year. At some point over the course of the year though, the source of his disdain had stopped being the fact that she was a Muggleborn.

Draco had long since given up the idea that he could ever have anything fully  _ good _ in his life. He’d accepted it, though. He had, even if exhaustive melancholy was more of a companion than anything else recently. 

Defense Against the Dark Arts started off with Draco swearing he’d focus on the lesson, on Snape and his piercing, crushing gaze, but Draco had never been very good at keeping promises to himself. Once Elaine had come rushing into the room, her chest heaving with quick breaths, he found he couldn’t process a word Snape said. 

Gods above, when had he stopped hating her so damn much? It irked him and weighed on his mind practically every waking moment. Maybe Zabini and Knott had been right; he  _ had _ been rather off as of late. 

Snape’s monotonous voice was easily filtered out as Draco wondered not only when, but  _ how _ . How had Elaine, the person he despised most other than his father, come to be the person that he sought out when he just needed  _ someone _ to be there. 

The first time had been an accident. Truly, it had. There was no way to know that she’d stumble upon him trying his hardest to get to the Room of Requirement and patch himself up before he bled out on the cold stone floor. That introduced another thing he simply could not understand; Elaine, though he had been nothing but purely vicious to her since the moment they had met, had helped him. She’d cleaned his wounds, got  _ his _ blood on her hands, and she hadn’t batted an eye. 

Draco had been downright vile during the whole thing, too. That night was something he always remembered with a barely-concealed wince that was only partially due to the ghost of pain that rippled through him. And still, she had healed him even as he sent a barrage of insults towards her. 

He hadn’t known she was so...selfless. 

Hell, he hadn’t known much about her at all until he’d overheard one of the Hogwarts professors tell another in Diagon Alley that Elaine always came back from summer holiday underfed and sporting dark circles beneath her eyes, on her arms and her legs, too, before the start of the school year. Draco had pretended to browse a selection of books about a plant he’d never heard of as the professor informed her colleague about “Poor Ms. Adler and her abusive Muggle father”. 

Of course that piece of shit was a Muggle. 

Draco also hadn’t felt anything akin to attraction to anyone since second year until Elaine had walked out onto the pitch before the first Quidditch game of the year. The rain had slicked her robes to her skin, the dripping water sparkling on her cheekbones and her lips. 

But none of this mattered, did it? It didn’t matter that Draco had learned that Elaine was as strong and brilliant and sarcastic as she was obnoxious and combative and over-critical. As long as he was working on the Vanishing Cabinet and as long as the flesh on his forearm had a limited amount of time before slithering black ink covered it, it could never matter. 

The fact that she was Muggleborn no longer irked him like it used to; it no longer made his skin crawl and his lip curl with disgust. Some might call that progress, others might call it the bare minimum, but he swore it had to count for something. 

It  _ had _ to mean that he wasn’t everything his father was. 

Snape’s class ended before Draco even had time to pretend like he was paying attention. He knew Snape would pull him aside later and ask him about it, but Draco didn’t really care. The man had become so incredibly protective over him that he barely felt he had room to breathe, much less work on anything he needed to. 

It was difficult to pretend that he cared about most of his classes, though. It was difficult to care about most anything when a majority of his thoughts were centered around that damn cabinet. Draco despised his father for many things, but forcing him to say yes to this almost topped the list. 

Draco didn’t dare ask for help either. Not when there were eyes and ears everywhere and his family’s very survival was dependent on him succeeding. Perhaps it made him a bad son, but if the Dark Lord had only threatened his father’s well-being, Draco would’ve given up a long time ago. 

His mother was the only reason he was still pushing through, both with the cabinet and with school. It wasn’t her fault her husband was a poor excuse for a wizard at best and an abusive, terrorizing bastard at worst. 

Classes passed by like they always did, in a rush of information he barely held on to and sharp reminders from professors to pay attention. Draco didn’t know why they bothered. He didn’t need to pay attention to get better marks than most of the dimwitted students that attended the school. 

The one class he did still enjoy was Potions, even with that bothersome idiot Slughorn teaching it this year. It had been his favorite class since first year, but he’d never told anyone that besides Zabini and Knott. He didn’t quite have anyone else to tell besides the two of them, anyway. 

There was something so satisfying and calming about being given a clear set of instructions and being able to follow them without a flaw. It brought a strange sense of stillness to Draco that he seldom experienced anymore. 

He waltzed in late, like most days, because what did being on time matter? Not having to wait impatiently for Elaine to show up had become an added bonus some time in the past two weeks. Slughorn barely gave him a glance while continuing his lecture as Draco sat down in the back of the class, where he sat in all his courses. He preferred being far away from the prying eyes of professors and other students. Draco gave Zabini and Crabbe a terse nod of greeting as he settled in. 

Elaine was taking notes in her looped, slanting handwriting that Draco had become so familiar with over the course of the year, her quill scratching softly as she wrote. Draco didn’t bother taking out his ink or parchment. He had never taken notes; he certainly wasn’t about to start in his sixth year. 

Slughorn was rambling on about a potion they were making that class period, but Draco’s focus was on making himself not pay attention to Elaine. It seemed a never ending task, apparently. 

“...is a partner potion, due to its time-sensitive nature,” Draco heard Slughorn say as he finally tuned back into the round-bellied professor. 

_ Of fucking course it was _ . 

Elaine hadn’t heard the page Slughorn had instructed everyone to turn to; Draco could tell by the way her eyes darted quickly around the room at her classmates until she spotted someone with their book open to the correct spot. As he flipped carelessly through his own, he recalled the time he’d opened Elaine’s textbook to the right page with a subtle flick of his wand at the beginning of the year. He had sworn to himself he had done it to minimize her nagging questions. 

Draco didn’t know what he was expecting from Elaine after last night, but it certainly wasn’t this calm, almost uncaring demeanor from her. She had had a tendency in the past to be rather dramatic or emotional, which was something that drove him mad, but not today. 

Today, he had wished...shit, for  _ something _ beyond a few words exchanged concerning who was grabbing what ingredients. Far be it from him to be the one to say anything about last night first, though. He had laid his soul bare, or had at least told her how he felt. It was her turn and Draco wasn’t going to be persuaded otherwise. He was nothing if not stubborn, something that had driven his father mad on countless occasions. 

It was hard to work so closely with Elaine and always had been, but he’d never admit that the reason why had changed so drastically. He’d never admit that instead of wanting to smack her to get her to shut up he wanted to kiss her blush-colored lips, or that rather than keeping his hands to himself as much as he could, he wanted to explore every inch of her skin. Preferably under her black school robe that was beginning to wear at the hem and sleeves. 

Admitting Draco was attracted to Elaine was something he’d never imagined he’d have to do in his wildest dreams, but he still couldn’t bring himself to accept that it was more than physical. If he only let himself think about the things he wanted to do to her and not the things he wanted to do  _ with _ her, it made him hate himself less. 

Only marginally, but he would take what he could get. 

“So,” Elaine said, impatience lining her voice. “Can we get started, or do you have something better to do?”

Well, that certainly helped pull his attention away from last night. “Bit uptight today, aren’t we?” Draco asked as she dumped the necessary ingredients on their table. 

“I’m not uptight,” Elaine retorted. “I just want to get this potion done right and we don’t have much time.”

Draco almost replied with a comment about her being a teacher’s pet, but he held his tongue. “Whatever you say, Elaine.”

It was still strange to address her so casually after years of only barking her last name at her with an insult arriving either before or after it. Draco had noticed the small shiver that ran down her spine whenever he said her first name, and that sight was far too enticing to give up due to old habits or comfort. 

The work was easy and time went fast, giving Draco a much-needed break to try and sort through his thoughts as he absent-mindedly assisted Elaine with the potion. He’d missed what it was actually for, but he didn’t care much. Learning academics had become increasingly difficult as more and more of his attention was being eaten up by his fate that was looming ever closer. 

“Hand me that green bottle,” Elaine said, pointing to a glass vile between her and Draco as she leaned over their shared cauldron. 

Draco let out a small huff.  _ Muggles never learn manners, do they?  _ “What, no ‘please’?” He mumbled as he pushed the bottle a few inches towards Elaine. 

Elaine matched his exasperated sound. “Christ, just hand it to me, or the potion will be ruined.”

Picking up the vile, Draco dropped it unceremoniously into her open palm. She pulled off the stopper and dropped in four drops of a liquid that was a rather sickly shade of yellow. The potion bubbling in the cauldron immediately began to jump and boil as Elaine slowly stirred the two substances together. 

Slughorn ambled by, giving them both a bright smile and a word of praise as he examined their work. “Well done! I must say, the two of you make quite a pair. I recall Mr. Malfoy being reluctant to work with you, Ms. Adler, but I am rather glad that you’ve done so this year.” 

A blush crept up Elaine’s face, but Draco’s remained impassive. Slughorn leaned in, dropping his voice to a theatrical whisper. “Don’t tell the others, as we professors aren’t meant to have favorites, but the potions you work on together are some of the best I’ve ever seen.”

Elaine let out a small, pleased laugh. “Thank you, Professor.”

Slughorn winked at her and gave Draco a polite nod before continuing his inspections around the classroom. Draco could tell Elaine was elated by Slughorn’s compliment by the way her shoulders straightened and a small smile rested on her face even as she tried to look like she was unphased. 

Draco didn’t know why she bothered hiding it. Everyone knew Ravenclaws practically got off on being praised for their school work and it wasn’t hard to tell Elaine was no different. 

He loathed admitting it, but Slughorn was right. The potions they’d been forced to work on together always turned out better than even Granger and Potter’s, which was something that made Draco puff up with smug pride. Granger may study harder than him, but Draco knew he was far smarter than that stuck-up Gryffindor. She had to work for her excellent marks; Draco didn’t. 

By the end of the period, Draco and Elaine’s potion was one of the two that had been made successfully; the rest of the classes’ failures ranged from slight discoloration to complete annihilation of more than one cauldron. Draco didn’t even bother to disguise the cocky smile that spread across his lips as Slughorn surveyed the rest of the students with a displeased look on his face. 

It felt good to have a victory, even in something as small and inane as making a potion correctly. Elaine hadn’t said a single truly unkind word to him during the entire hour either, which brought Draco, against his own will, a miniscule burst of happiness that he rarely experienced anymore. He couldn’t help but look on with jealousy while Granger greeted her with a bright grin as class ended, and said something that made Elaine laugh loudly as they left the room. 

Unfortunately, it couldn’t last long, as after Potions, the rest of Draco’s day was dedicated to working more on that insufferable Vanishing Cabinet. He could’ve sworn the damn thing was mocking him as he entered the Room of Requirement, the looming black shadow dominating the corner like a dark beacon of oily evil. 

Draco never let himself admit it, but being around the cabinet made his skin crawl in a way that normally left him with an unsettled stomach and a tight feeling in his chest.  _ Months _ he’d been working on it, and barely any progress had been made. 

He had a sneaking suspicion that that was why the Dark Lord had given him this assignment. He delighted in failure, even the failure of His followers; it meant He could unleash His truly sadistic side and torture whomever hadn’t completed His orders. 

Taking a deep breath, Draco once again swore that he would not be like all those other imbeciles that served the Dark Lord. He was a Malfoy, for fuck’s sake. He would  _ not _ be made a fool of, and he would not fail his mother. 

The last time he had worked on the cabinet, he had successfully vanished an apple, and it had come back entirely unmarred. When he had opened the heavy cabinet door and seen the shiny green apple sitting pristinely on the wooden floor, he had nearly sighed with relief. 

It had meant he was getting  _ somewhere _ , at least. Snape had given him the next step from the Dark Lord: begin trying the process with a small living creature, one that wouldn’t be noticed if it went missing. Of course, the Room of Requirement had immediately given him a large metal cage swinging softly from the ceiling with a small, yellow bird sitting contently on the horizontal wood dowel that hung from the top of the cage. 

Draco opened the small door, moving slowly so as to not disturb the small creature, but the bird merely tilted its head at Draco, as if it was studying him. Quickly, without room for remorse, he snatched the bird with a tight grip, removing it from the safety of its cage. The bird remained silent, its eyes peering at Draco as he set it down in the cabinet. With a soft grunt, Draco shoved the door shut. 

He felt the familiar rush of chilled air as the cabinet’s magic worked. After a few seconds, Draco pulled open the door, and on the hard floor, tucked away in a shadowed corner and shivering violently, stood the bird.

Still alive. 

  
  



	31. Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi my loves! i had another hard few days so this chapter is a bit,,,soft but i think its a really good one! thank you for all the sweet comments i adore you all

As much as I wanted to stay and relive what had just happened with Draco, being alone in Snape’s office made me feel so uneasy that I practically tripped over my own feet in my hurry to leave. Draco had already disappeared by the time I’d gotten myself together and made sure it didn’t look like I had just almost had sex in a professor’s office. I could feel the weight of the events in that office begin to crush down onto me until my chest felt stuck and my hands shook as I left. 

I leaned against the wall of the corridor once I had gotten a good distance away from that dark space, letting myself take only a few moments to give into the pure terror that had filled every bit of me, every space between my skin and bones. The harsh almost-reality that nearly came to pass caused a renewed flood of anxiety to rush through me, almost submerging me with its power. Only a few moments; I could feel this panic, this horrified fear for a few moments before I needed to collect myself and continue. 

It was the only way I’d gotten through all the hardships in my life. If I spun it enough, I could make myself believe this was no different. I had no choice but to make myself believe it, because if I didn’t?

A semi-maniacal laugh bubbled up in my chest against my will as I leaned my back against the hallway wall. _Fuck_ , I had just been tied to a chair with a Death Eater threatening me because I overheard his conversation with the fucking Dark Lord himself. The situation was so fucking far from funny and I knew that, but it helped me lessen the severity of it. Or maybe I really was just going insane. My actions lately were probably enough to land me in a nice, long-term room at St. Mungos. 

And Christ, I had almost just had _sex_ for the first time. In Snape’s office. With Draco fucking Malfoy. The worst part was, I only regretted the fact that we had been somewhere so unsettling and public. 

Yes, I was still angry at the fact that he had taken my memory, but I didn’t think I was angry at him anymore. It felt incredibly conflicting, because I hated that my mind had been invaded, but hearing him explain himself, I realized that it was, in his own fucked up way, his way of protecting me. 

Now _that_ was funny, I thought to myself as I forced two deep breaths in and out of my lungs. I pushed myself off the wall, feeling the way I shoved down my panic and fear until it was crammed into the back corner of my mind where I could leave it there until I had time and space to deal with it. So, probably never. 

Draco Malfoy, protecting me. What a peculiar thing to be shielded by him rather than attacked. Though, by erasing my memories, he had oddly enough managed to do both at the same time. 

Far be it from me to judge someone on the morality of their actions, especially Draco. I knew better than to expect healthy communication from him, but I hardly was any better. It made me furious at first, but now…

Fuck me, I felt _flattered_. Special, even. Draco had stuck his neck out for me twice now, even if it hadn’t been done in the best way. I couldn’t help but think that perhaps I was significant to him as I walked away from Snape’s office. 

For the first time, I wished I could talk about him to someone. Of course I couldn’t spill everything that had happened between us, but I wanted to. I wanted to obsess over little things about him with Hermione or Cho, I wanted to talk about how incredible I felt as he kissed me, about how fiery and addicting his touch was. 

The novelty of feeling anything other than utter contempt for Draco wasn’t lost on me, but I was slowly becoming more--not _comfortable_ \--but less horrified at the idea. Being the rational person I was, there was always that lingering, nagging thought in the back of my head that reminded this wasn’t something that could last very long at all. 

I found myself ignoring that thought more and more every time I felt Draco’s lips against mine. Relationships at this age didn’t really ever have a long lifespan anyways. Even healthy, non-toxic ones that didn’t involve a boy whose father was a Death Eater. That didn’t involve a boy who possibly was one himself. 

Any excuse to let myself keep giving into him, right?

Maybe it was a form of self punishment, maybe my father gifting me that lovely black eye over Christmas had shaken my head a bit too hard, but I was tired of caring about the reason _why_. I was tired of not letting myself indulge in the one thing I’d ever wanted so much. I was tired of promising myself it was the last time when I knew good and well I couldn’t stay away from Draco even if I tried. 

I was tired of everything, really, besides him. 

And the fact that he had told me he’d fallen in love with me? Gods above, I barely believed my ears as he told me he had meant it when he’d confessed his love. For a few heart wrenching moments after I had relived the memory, I thought he’d erased it because he hadn’t meant it or that he was embarrassed to have such monumental feelings for me. 

I wish I had been brave enough to tell him I felt the same way. Usually, I would expect someone to already know from my actions, but given the circumstances, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Draco assumed I still hated him. 

Fuck, I wished I could talk to Hermione about this. She was always so level-headed.

Classes were done for the day, but the burning golds and reds of the sun setting in the sky told me I’d been in Snape’s office for at least an hour. Perhaps I should’ve felt more shaken by the events that had just occurred. I definitely should’ve felt more terrified about the fact that Snape had caught me, but I think I’d gotten too good at compartmentalizing my problems. All my brain could focus on was Draco, though. Draco, and my growling stomach that was growing louder by the second. I was too hungry to bother going all the way to my room to change, so I headed towards the Great Hall in search of my friends and some dinner. 

The spiced, hearty smell of soups and bread greeted me as I walked in, scanning the room for Hermione, Cho, or Luna. Candles floated above my head, casting flickering shadows over the softly lit dining hall. It was still cold out, but someone had begun adding decorations reminiscent of spring, perhaps in hopes that it would invite warmer weather to the castle. Vases of palely colored flowers were placed throughout the room, giving the space a cheery, peaceful atmosphere. 

Spotting Hermione and Cho sitting at a table, I set course for them, thanking the heavens that Harry was nowhere to be seen. Things with Harry...well, they weren’t any worse, but they surely weren’t better, either. Making the situation better would require Harry actually interacting with me, and I hadn’t heard a word from him since he and Draco had gotten in that ridiculous fight. 

Hermione smiled kindly at me as I sat down, reaching for a warm roll. “Hey, Elaine,” she said. “Did you get everything figured out with Slughorn?”

I nodded as I bit into my roll, a buttery, flaky taste settling on my tongue. “Yeah, he’s going to let me make up the potion.”

“Good, that’s wonderful. You seemed rather...distracted. Are you okay?” Hermione asked. 

That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? “Yes, just didn’t get much sleep last night, you know?” 

I couldn’t really tell either of them why, and I felt incredibly guilty about lying, but it was for their own safety. The less they knew, the better. “I’m really in need of a bit of a girl’s night, to be honest. I know it’s only Thursday and we have class tomorrow, but-”

“Of course we can have a girl’s night,” Cho said. “I think we all could use that.”

I smiled gratefully at her and continued my dinner, feeling a bit more at peace at the thought of spending some time with my friends. 

\-------

A few hours later, and I was sprawled across Hermione’s bed in her Prefect dorm. My wrists still felt a bit chafed from being bound by those awful, abrasive ropes Draco and Snape had conjured, but I had made sure my sleeves stayed tugged over my raw skin. I had little energy to explain to Hermione and Cho why I had rope marks on my wrists. 

Jealous was certainly an understatement when it came to how I felt about not having my own room like she did. Hermione’s room was practically her soul personified. Shelves lined three out of the four walls and were brimming with books, stacks of textbooks and parchment and ink lay on her desk, and everything was either a muted light green or a soft gray, which were her two favorite colors. She even had her own coffee machine and supplies to keep her going through her long nights of studying. Hogwarts offered thirteen subjects, and she was taking them all. It was a wonder how she had time to do anything else. Hermione claimed Dumbledore had taken her Time Turner after the events of our third year, but sometimes I suspected otherwise. 

It was a comforting space, always a warm temperature and the smell of new parchment and lavender filled the air. Cho was sitting in Hermione’s desk chair while we waited for her to finish getting unready from the day. 

She finally appeared from the bathroom, her curly hair damp from her shower. With an old t-shirt that advertised one of her favorite Muggle bands, she was gently patting at her hair, soaking up the excess water. Cho and I were still in our school uniforms, figuring we’d only spend a few hours together before we returned to our dorm room to sleep. 

Sitting down on the bed with me, Hermione loosed a sigh. “I feel like I haven’t had two moments to myself that weren’t filled with studying since September,” she lamented. 

“I still can’t believe you’re taking thirteen subjects,” I said, propping myself up with an elbow. “I feel overwhelmed as is, and I’m only taking seven or eight.”

“I swear, you’re the smartest person I’m ever going to meet,” Cho chimed in, making Hermione smile. 

“I just work hard, that’s all. But this isn’t a night to talk about school, so I’m saying it’s banned for the rest of the night. Thoughts?”

Cho and I nodded our agreement. Talking about school would only make me feel worse and would do nothing but remind me of Potions and of Snape, and I needed a breather from both of those things. 

Hermione suddenly let out a gasp and ran to her bathroom, making Cho and I cast curious glances at each other. After a moment, Hermione reemerged, holding a small brown paper bag. 

Setting it down next to me, she opened the bag, and we were instantly met with the sweet, strong smell of an herb I couldn’t quite remember the name of. The scent, though, the scent was unforgettable; it was one of those plants that Professor Sprout had said, when consumed, caused the person’s brain to relax and dampened the senses enough that they could practically forget about everything that plagued them. I pulled myself up to a sitting position to see what Hermione had procured. 

Cho’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Miss _Prefect_ , is that what I think it is? Where did you manage to get some of this?”

“Neville grows it in the greenhouses, but you didn’t hear it from me,” Hermione said. “Turns out, he’s a rather decent baker. It helps me study.”

Cho snorted. “Study, my ass. Last time I had some of this, I could barely move because of how light my head felt. It was awesome,” she sighed, remembering the pleasant memory. 

“Elaine, have you had it before?” Hermione asked.

I shook my head no. My only experience with something of this caliber had been the summer between fourth and fifth year when a neighborhood boy I’d been flirting with had smoked with me late one night. He’d ended up getting so intoxicated I’d had to basically drag him home afterwards. “If you’re offering, though…”

Hermione grinned. “Great! I’d rather use the edibles this time. The smoke is messy and it lingers for _days_.”

Cho shrugged. “Hey, fine by me. The smoke hurts my throat anyways.”

Hermione dug out three squares that looked remarkably like ordinary brownies. When I raised my eyebrows, Hermione just laughed and handed me one. “Start with a bit at a time, okay?”

I nodded, biting into the brownie. A rich, slightly herbal taste flooded my mouth, making me hum in appreciation. I hadn’t been expecting it to taste so good or so normal. Cho and Hermione did the same, though they took much bigger bites than I. Setting my piece to the side, I brought my knees up to my chest, hugging them into my torso. A slight sting wrapped around my wrists at the fabric of my sleeves rubbing against the tender skin, but I ignored the subtle pain as Cho spoke.

“How’re things going with Ron, Hermione? Seems like he can barely keep his eyes off you.”

Hermione flushed, playing with a coil of curls as she replied. “It’s good! I mean, it’s great, really. It still doesn’t feel real sometimes, you know?”

I nearly smacked myself in frustration. I had been so wrapped up in myself lately that I had totally forgotten to ask if anything more had happened with the two of them after Hermione had told me they’d kissed the first time. 

Cho nodded, smiling fondly. “Believe me, I know. With Cedric…” she sighed. “We’ve been together for a while now, but I still look at him sometimes and wonder how I managed to get with him.”

I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. “Don’t be daft, Chang. Have you seen yourself? Harry was practically falling at your feet all year last year. You and Ced belong together.”

“And what about you?” Cho asked, and I felt my heart skip a beat. 

“What about me?” 

“Anyone caught your eye lately?” Cho elaborated.

The brownie was beginning to make my head feel a bit light, almost like I was floating. A pleasant experience, really, and it helped ease the anxiety that was starting to flare up at the mention of my love life. “Oh, um…”

Maybe Hermione had forgotten, maybe Harry hadn’t told her at all, but she seemed entirely clueless as she giggled. “Oh, Elaine’s blushing! There is someone!”

“Is it the same someone that gave you that monster of a hickey a little bit ago?” Cho questioned, making me bite the inside of my lip as I recalled Draco’s feverish lips attacking my neck. 

I paused for a moment, then nodded slowly. Hermione clapped her hands together and Cho squealed, which must’ve been caused by the brownie, because Cho never squealed. It made me laugh, a bit of a loose, crazy laugh that seemed to leech some of the tension from my body. 

“Who? Please, you have to tell us!” Hermione pleaded, crossing her legs and tucking her feet under her on the bed next to you. 

There was no way I could tell them it was Draco, not without going into _everything_ , and my head felt much too light for that. But fuck, I really, really wanted to pretend I was a normal girl for just a night and gush about the boy I had a crush on. About the boy I possibly _loved_ , as scary as that notion was. 

“He’s…” God, how to describe Draco? “He’s...he’s serious, way too serious, but he’s smart. Like, wicked smart. He’s got this smile that just,” I shivered, making Cho snort. “It just makes me feel like I have a whole flock of butterflies in my stomach. Sometimes...most of the time, he’s not terribly nice,” I said, my mouth feeling a bit dry as the full effects of Neville’s creation took hold of me. 

Hermione lifted a brow. “Then why do you like him?”

Why did I? I’d been wondering that myself for what seemed like weeks now. 

“Because...fuck, because around him, it’s just _me_ , y’know? I don’t have to pretend, I don’t have to hide the horrible--hide anything, and somehow, he knows all of the shit that’s happened to me. I didn’t even mean for him to know, it just kept happening. He just kept showing up right when I was doing the worst. Sure, he’s a perfect dickhead more often than not, but being able to be the barest version of myself around someone and not have them pity me is…” I paused, trying to find the right words as I fought through the fog growing around my mind. 

“It’s not something I’ve ever had before, not like I do with him, and I feel like he doesn’t care if-if I’m a terrible person or not. He doesn’t care if I’m mean, or if I lash out, because he does too. I’m so sick of being pitied.”

I swallowed, suddenly feeling rather embarrassed about my outpouring of emotions, but I continued, because it was so relieving to be able to talk about Draco, even in such vague terms. “I think I like him because, more than anything else, he understands me. He’s seen...god, he’s seen me at my fucking worst, you guys. And he didn’t give a fuck.”

Cho and Hermione could tell I wasn’t done, that I needed to keep going, because they just sat quietly, looking at me without a shred of judgement. 

“And-fuck, it’s not healthy, honestly, not really, but-” I cut myself off as a giggle rose up in my throat as I thought about just how strange Draco and I’s relationship was. “But I’m kind of tired of being healthy, I think? I know that doesn’t sound good, but having someone who doesn’t give a shit about...well, he gives a shit about me, or at least, I’m pretty sure he does. But he doesn’t care about my father or the shit he’s put me through. He...fuck, he can even tell when I really need to talk about my father even when I’m yelling at him to leave me alone. He can always tell when I need to get something out of my system, sometimes before I know it myself.”

I took a breath, feeling more at ease than I had in so, so long. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s so fucking hot it nearly makes my head spin, but he also pisses me off more than anyone I’ve ever met. He’s confusing and rude and does things that I don’t understand at all, but when I really need someone, when things get dark and I feel like I’d rather just drown in it than wake up the next day, he pulls me up.”

My friends are looking at me with an expression I can’t quite place as I work through why I like Draco for the first time, right in front of them. “I think...I think I like him because...he makes me want to keep going. He doesn’t let me give up, even when I wanted to more than anything. And I’ve wanted to more than I’d like to admit this year. I’ve wanted…” I stopped, suddenly feeling emotion surge in my chest, making my throat feel thick with tears. “When he found out I had been kicked out, he acted like such an asshole. I almost punched him, I think.”

“What did he do?” Cho asked even as Hermione furrowed her brow at our friend for interrupting me. 

Recalling the dangerous way Draco’s silver eyes had glinted like daggers when he had seen my black eye made my stomach flip. Remembering the way he had touched the bruise so gently, as if he were going to break me if he moved too fast had my heart skipping as I answered, “He pestered me and insulted me until I got so angry I told him and I think that was the only reason I didn’t…”

I couldn’t finish that sentence, not with the quasi-drug in my system that was making it hard to speak as it was. 

“He made me angry on purpose, I think. Like he knew that I needed to just let it out, or I’d smother it until it broke free and smothered me instead,” I finished softly. 

Hermione looked at me, and I saw small silver drops running down her face that I realized, after a long moment, were tears. “‘Mione?”

Hermione shakes her head, clumsily wiping away the faint traces of moisture. “Sorry, I just...Elaine, I’m so sorry. I didn’t-I didn’t know you were struggling so much. God, that sounds so stupid, but-”

Even through the warm confusion of the herb coursing through me, I felt my heart fracture a tiny bit at the sorrow in Hermione’s voice. “No, it’s-it’s really okay,” I assured her. “How would you? I never said anything. I haven’t even spent much time with either of you lately,” I said, suddenly feeling regret as I realized I’d been quite a shitty friend to both of them in the past few months. 

“I’m sorry, too,” Cho said, in almost a whisper as she stood up and walked over to Hermione’s bed. She sat down, swaying a bit as she wrapped her arms around me in a hug that seemed to both suffocate and revive me. 

Pulling away had been my immediate reaction whenever things had gotten rocky in the past, but as Cho held me and Hermione reached over and grabbed my hand, I realized that maybe I needed my friends more than I thought. Maybe if I hadn’t run away as soon as things got difficult, I wouldn’t have felt like falling apart as often as I did. 

Eventually, they both pulled away, and with a few stray tears being wiped away, Cho asked me, “So have you and him-”

I shook my head, thinking about how just a few hours earlier, we almost _had_. “No, not-not yet,” I answered uncertainly. 

Hermione widened her eyes. “Not yet?”

“I-I want to, though,” I said, because god, did I ever. It had felt like my skin was almost singing with need in Snape’s office as Draco had trailed his hands over every bit of my body he could reach “Soon, maybe.”

“Well, I mean, we know you two have kissed at least, right?” Hermione asked. 

“Yeah, a number of times,” I admitted as my cheeks heated with embarrassment. 

“That’s my girl!” Cho cheered, making me giggle. “It was good, right? Please tell me this incredible guy is also an incredible kisser.”

I bit my lip, willing my breath to even out as I thought about Draco’s mouth against mine, about how he tasted and the way every kiss felt like fire brushing my skin. “He’s...I didn’t think kissing could be so good.”

Hermione leaned her head on my shoulder, making me lean into her. “I know you don’t want to tell us who it is, and I don’t know why, but I’m just glad you have him. It sounds like you really need him.”

I had never considered that, but I guess I did need him. In more ways than one. Giggling about Draco Malfoy felt so insanely odd, but it had been so hard to work out my feelings about him on my own. I hadn’t seen it before, but now I knew it wasn’t a way to punish myself, at least not anymore. Maybe at the start. But now... It was a way to survive, to get through the things that I couldn’t push through by myself, as hard as I tried. 

Talking about Draco helped me understand why I couldn’t stay away from him before. And why I didn’t _want_ to stay away from him now. 

The three of us talked for a while, but as the sky began to twinkle with stars and the moon shone high in the night sky, it became harder and harder to keep my eyes open. My entire body felt so heavy in a surprisingly pleasant way that I barely managed to mumble a soft goodnight before my eyes shut and I fell into a sleep that felt like a warm embrace. 

\-------

I hadn’t meant to fall asleep in Hermione’s dorm, which is why my white shirt felt stuck to my skin with sweat and why it took a minute to figure out where I was when I woke up. Hermione and Cho had both already gotten up, and the ornate wooden clock on her desk told me that I only had a few minutes to get ready before I would miss the chance to go down and eat breakfast. 

Sitting up, I groaned at the cottony feeling in my head and wiped the sleep from my eyes. My shirt felt disgusting, making me grimace. “‘Mione?” I croaked.

Hermione’s head popped out of the bathroom, her dark curls bouncing softly. “Look who’s awake!”

I huffed. “Thanks for not bothering to wake me up. Now I’m going to miss breakfast because I have to run back to my dorm to change,” I sighed. 

“Just borrow one of my shirts,” Hermione told me as she leaned back into the bathroom to continue getting ready. “There’s clean ones in the top drawer of my dresser.”

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I noticed that feeling of calm I’d basked in still persisted. Christ, I had needed last night more than I’d thought, apparently. Wincing at the cold stone beneath my feet, I opened the top drawer of Hermione’s grey dresser and pulled out a new button-up shirt. 

As I pulled off my own and donned hers, I looked at myself in her floor-length mirror that stood next to her dresser. My hair needed a bit of combing, but my skirt wasn’t too wrinkled, and my knee-high socks were still okay. Add a tiny bit of makeup, and I’d look good as new. 

I ran into a problem, though, as I threaded the white buttons through the matching holes in my borrowed shirt. Both Hermione and I had forgotten that I was more well-endowed than her, causing the buttons to strain in a way that bordered on inappropriate against the size of my chest. 

A whistle came from behind me, and I saw Cho standing behind me in the mirror. I scowled at her as I finished doing up the buttons. “It’s not my fault. My shirt was disgusting.”

Cho laughed. “Hey, I’m all for showing off your assets. Maybe it’ll catch your boy’s attention.”

I mumbled, “Shut it,” and Cho laughed again. 

“Really, it doesn’t look that bad. You’d only notice it if you’re looking closely, and I’m guessing if someone’s looking that much, they’d like it anyways,” Cho reasoned, and I sighed. 

It wasn’t like I had time to change, and I was even running out of time to complain as I did my best to gather my hair into a loose braid and use just enough makeup that I didn’t look dead. Hermione and Cho were practically dragging me out of Hermione’s room as I finished, whining at me that I’d make them miss breakfast, to which I responded that if they had bothered to wake me up earlier, we wouldn’t be in this predicament. 

Thankfully, the Gryffindor common room was far closer to the Great Hall than the Ravenclaw tower, so we made it with more time to spare than we’d thought. Walking into the large room, I felt happier, _brighter_ , than I had in awhile. It felt good to laugh, to just let go and not think about anything scarier than missing a meal. 

I was so caught up in the joy of being with my friends that I didn’t even think to check if Draco was in the Great Hall as I walked in, so I didn’t really see him until Potions, as he had shown up late to Defense Against the Dark Arts and I had already begun taking notes. It took a monumental effort not to glance up at the boy who was apparently in love with me as he sauntered in and sat next to me. 

To be honest, I had no idea how to act around him now. Or if I should even act differently at all. Surely, he wouldn’t act any differently, right? Yes, he’d confessed his feelings, yes, we’d almost had sex, but that didn’t mean anything when it came to Draco. If I had a dime for every time that I thought that boy would do one thing and he did something completely opposite, I might be almost as rich as him. 

I didn’t know what to do, so I didn’t do anything. As I informed him I’d grab the ingredients and all I received was a grunt in response, it felt like we were at a stalemate. In all fairness, I supposed it was my turn to do something, but, as much as I hated to admit it, I was scared. 

Perhaps that anxiety was the reason I found myself snapping at him more than once. I hadn’t meant to be so short, but it took so much of my effort to keep my hands from trembling around him now that I sounded brisk and uptight. 

Making the potion with him, because of _course_ it was a partner potion, felt...well, it felt fucking terrible. I wanted to feel his icy hands on my skin, or his lips against mine, or see his sharp eyes flicker in amusement at something stupid I said. Going back to frigid, structured conversation made my chest ache with want. Catching his eyes glued to my chest more than once during Potions made fire spark in my stomach.

I think it was safe to say I needn’t struggle anymore figuring out how I felt about Draco. 

Draco still got under my skin, but I had a sneaking suspicion that that was a permanent fixture between us. I had to admit, though, that it was easier to deal with when I could just think about the way his hands had run through my hair instead. 

We made our potion, even got a compliment from Professor Slughorn, but all I could really focus on was the fact that I couldn’t find a way to tell Draco that I felt the same. He’d told me he was in love with me, even that he’d meant it.

Meaning it was different than wanting it, though. And that difference was like a concrete dam, forcing me to hold my feelings close to my chest. Draco was fickle; he changed as easily and as often as the direction of the wind whistling outside the castle as I left the dungeon and headed towards my dorm.

Meaning it and wanting it were different, and that was the reason that I couldn’t tell him I felt the same. We were so similar in so many ways, but where those similarities stopped was where I felt myself stopping, too.


	32. Uncertainty and Resolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> up sunday as promised!!! i adore your responses to the last chapter and i hope you guys like this chapter just as much! apologies for any spelling and grammar errors lmao

Draco was gone. He’d been gone for four days now, if I counted correctly. And I’m pretty damn sure I did, because every time I went to a class or to the Great Hall and he didn’t show up, it was like I felt his absence in my chest. Like there was a piece of glass that cracked every time I thought he was going to be somewhere, and he wasn’t. 

Potions was the strangest by far. I was incredibly hyperaware of every time he didn’t saunter in, sit down next to me, and look like that was the last place he wanted to be in that moment. His presence had become such a guarantee, such an expected thing, and now that he’d been gone, things just felt... _off._

You would think that after the first two days, I’d stopped hoping for him to appear, that my heart would stop jumping every time the classroom door opened until I turned around and it wasn’t Draco. That would be the logical thing to do, the reasonable thing. I could’ve just told myself to stop fretting and that he’d be back whenever he’d be back. 

But logic and reason hadn’t been my companions for a while now, and this was no different. I just...I hoped he was _okay_. I longed to know that he was alright, just so that my mind could stop spiraling around the myriad of reasons why he was gone. 

Or about _who_ was the reason he was gone. I was terrified that somehow, his father had found out about us, even if there was really not much to find out about in the first place. Lucius Malfoy was a cruel bastard, though, and I knew that any small step out of line by Draco would easily be enough provocation to mistreat him. Finding out his precious, Pureblood Slytherin son had willingly kissed a Muggleborn? That might as well be a death sentence. There was no telling what his father would do if that information ever came to light. 

And if it was my fault? Perhaps I was confused still, still a bit adrift and uncertain about how I wanted things to turn out, but I knew I cared enough about Draco that I would likely drown in my own guilt if he was hurt because of me. 

I just needed to see for myself that he was alright. Maybe it was left-over anxiety from my own father, or because I knew his father was similar to my own, but I didn’t like not knowing. I didn’t like it because I knew what went on behind closed doors. 

Hermione could tell I was on edge. So could Ron and Cho, judging by the worried glances they sent my way every time they saw how tired and how distracted I was. I felt like everyone could see the way that I was so full of nervous energy that I started at every sudden, loud noise. They could tell, and yet I couldn’t explain to them why. I couldn’t tell them I was anxious because the boy who’d bullied me for six years was _gone_ and I had no idea where he was or why he’d left. 

I wanted to, though. By the sixth day of Draco’s absence, when I was nearly keeling over with exhaustion because my brain hadn’t let me sleep in days, I wanted to confide in _someone_ about how I was feeling. How I felt that his absence was like a tear in my chest, and nothing other than seeing him in person would repair it. 

Even I was a bit confused as to why Draco being gone was affecting me so much. Maybe talking about it would help. How had I grown so attached to his presence without noticing? 

The lack of sleep was wearing on me, but I couldn’t coerce my mind to shut down long enough to let me get sleep that wasn’t restless and full of tossing and turning. Endless images of Draco being hurt paraded across my imagination in a vile mimicry of counting sheep. I felt foolish for being so dramatic, but given the first time I had saved Draco, the time that had really started all of this, I knew that perhaps my worries weren’t entirely unwarranted. 

The amount of concerned looks that I received from my friends told me I wasn’t hiding my worry well enough. Or really at all. 

And the worst part? I had just decided the day before he disappeared that even if I didn’t know how I wanted things between him and I to develop, I owed him an explanation of my feelings. Draco had now confessed to me not once, not twice, but three times how he felt and I had practically said nothing. He had earned the right to know what I thought of him, but I couldn’t seem to ever get my words to come out in the right order before he inevitably ran away. 

Saying that I wanted to tell him how I felt because I owed him was my own odd way of jusitifying it, I think. I still wasn’t brave enough to admit to myself that I wanted to tell him I was falling for him because I wanted something to happen. I honestly didn’t know if I ever would be brave enough. 

I wasn’t a Gryffindor, after all.

I had just worked up the courage to do so, and now I was more unsure than ever. What if this was some sort of sign from the universe? What if something was screaming at me not to tell him how I feel, and this is its way of giving me time to get over him?

Maybe I was more emotionally messed up than Draco was. That thought made me snort. God, just how fucked up did I have to be that _Draco_ could explain his feelings better than I could? At least it didn’t seem that Draco had to lead himself through all these hoops just to confront his own emotions. 

I wasn’t entirely to blame, if it mattered. Sure, he told me how he felt, but he never gave me enough damn time to respond. He never even gave me enough time to really get over the shock of hearing him say he felt something for me. Knowing Draco like I did now, I knew it was likely because he’d rather instigate the rejection than have it come from me. 

He was shooting himself in the foot, though. If he even took a single second to wait, to listen, he would know that…

That I felt the exact same way. I felt the- _fuck_ \- the love and the fear and the slight repulsion and the anxiety. I felt all of it. 

Maybe his absence was a good thing. Maybe the fact that I couldn’t see him or keep running into him meant I finally had the space to unravel my feelings for him. All it seemed to be doing was complicating things. 

Well, I had. I’d figured it out, so I wanted him back now. I wanted to smell his stupid cologne, I wanted to hear his snide voice, even if it was insulting me, I wanted to see the way his silver eyes darted to me when he thought no one was looking. 

I wanted Draco.

\-------

The eighth day, when I was eating a meager breakfast of apples and oatmeal because my stomach was in such tight knots that I could barely swallow food, Draco walked in. 

I almost thought it was a figment of my imagination, because, well, he looked _good_. He looked healthy, rested, even. The dark circles I’d grown so accustomed to under his eyes were practically erased, and his complexion had a glow about it that suggested he’d been eating and getting enough sleep. 

A wave of relief washed over me. As morbid as it sounds, I was preparing myself for the worst: bruises, gaunt cheekbones, slumped shoulders. But Draco had none of those as he sauntered over to the Slytherin table and sat with Zabini and Parkinson. 

Parkinson, who sidled up to him and looked at him like he had hung the moon in the sky. 

As far as I knew, he hadn’t pursued things with her. It struck me, though, that I _didn’t_ know. He hadn’t mentioned her in a while, but why would he ever talk about her to me? He’d never done so before. 

Well that certainly put a damper on the excitement I had felt seeing Draco after a week. 

As I watched them, only half paying attention to my food, it seemed like he couldn’t care less about her. He didn’t even bother to glance over her as she spoke to him. That wasn’t unusual for Draco, though. He didn’t parade his feelings, and he didn’t give anyone the time of day. It was bothering me more than it should, like a bug crawling under my skin, as I witnessed Pansy lay her hand on Draco’s arm. 

“‘Lainy?” 

“What?” I asked, pulled back to my table, where Hermione was furrowing her brow at me. 

“You, um,” she gestured to my spoon of oatmeal, which had been hovering in the air so long it was cold. “Seem distracted.”

“Oh,” was all I said before I plopped the oatmeal back down into my bowl. 

“You’ve been really zoned out lately,” she said. “I’m getting worried.”

“Don’t be,” I told her. “I’m really okay. I’ve just had a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

Hermione didn’t seem convinced, but that didn’t surprise me. She wasn’t easily deceived. “You know, if you would just talk about it, you might feel better. It might help to get some of those thoughts out into the open.”

I sighed, rubbing my face. “I know, it’s just…you know that boy I told you about?”

Hermione nodded. I tried to pick my words carefully, choosing ones that were as vague as possible. “I guess things aren’t going the way that I had hoped? Maybe not the way I’d hoped, but…”

“They’re not going well,” Hermoine finished for me. 

I bit the inside of my cheek, feeling the raw skin there that I’d been bothering for days now. “Not really, no.”

“And you still don’t want to say who it is, I’m guessing.” 

I nodded, that familiar pang of guilt rippling through me. “Not particularly. I’m...not embarrassed, I guess, not anymore. But…”

“You think we’d judge you. You think I’d judge you,” Hermione offered. 

Frankly, I did. Hermione had had it nearly as bad from Draco as I had, and Ron hated him so violently that I was hesitant to even mention Draco’s name around him. And Harry? Christ, Harry would probably either die from shock or he would really never speak to me again. 

“Yes. You would,” I confirmed softly, looking down at my pale oatmeal. 

“I won’t bother to tell you it’s not quite fair to assume our reactions before you’ve even told us,” Hermione began, and I nodded. “But I’m one of your best friends, Elaine. If...if you truly care for him, and he cares for you, I’m okay with it.”

If only it were that simple. 

Daring a glance at Draco before I spoke, I saw that he had scooted away from Pansy, who looked rather despondent about it. “I really appreciate that, ‘Mione. I just don’t really know if I’m ready. If I say it out loud to someone else, then that means it’s real. And-and I don’t know if it could ever be real, so all this worrying and feeling shitty might just be for nothing.”

“I don’t think it’s for nothing,” Hermione said, which kind of surprised me. “Clearly, you truly feel something for him, or you wouldn’t have been so off this week. And from what you told Cho and I, it seems like he feels the same.” 

“I guess…” I sighed, poking at my food. “I guess I’m...scared.” 

It was harder to admit than I thought; I’d never said it out loud before. I’d never even really said it about _anything_ before, not to my friends. The idea that I could reveal my deepest feelings to Draco and have him laugh in my face, or worse, was weighing on me nearly as much as his absence.

Hermione looked at me sympathetically, but in a way that didn’t make me feel like she was patronizing me. She and Draco, they were good at that.“Elaine, that’s normal. I felt scared when everything started with Ron. In fact, I still do sometimes. Because, you know, if things don’t work out between him and I, I’ll lose one of my closest friends.”

Around a bite of apple, I said, “Right, but you and Ron are practically soul mates. Things are going to work out.”

Hermione laughed lightly. “Sure, maybe we are, but we didn’t know that until we got together. I mean, you remember how much he and I bickered third year. I never would’ve guessed then that he would mean so much more to me. I probably would’ve laughed at you if you told me I was going to fall in love with him.”

Looking pointedly at me, she said, “What I’m trying to say is, you haven’t told this boy how you feel right?”

“Right. Not in a very clear way, anyways. Not that he’s really given me the chance anyways.”

“Okay, so, you need to.”

I pressed my lips into a thin line. “I know it sounds odd, but...just because he has feelings for me doesn’t mean that he wants to be with me. In fact, I think he might actually prefer if he _wasn’t_ with me. Or even around me at all. Sometimes...sometimes, I think that, too.”

“Or, you’re both just stubborn,” Hermione said. I looked at her incredulously, but she just returned the look. “Oh, come off it. You’re one of the most stubborn people I know. Especially if you’re in the wrong or when it comes how you feel.”

At my raised eyebrows, she continued. “Don’t act surprised. Getting you to share how you feel is honestly quite like pulling teeth. You hate expressing your feelings, especially when they’re about you being scared or uncertain.”

“But Elaine,” Hermione said, resting a hand on mine. “You’re entirely allowed to feel scared and uncertain and whatever else you’re feeling currently. Relationships are hard, and...with what you’ve gone through in the past, I understand why you’re feeling the way that you are. You’ll never know if this boy will be different, though. Not if you never try.”

I huffed a short laugh. “Geez, ‘Mione, I feel like I need to pay you for that therapy session.”

Hermione snorted. “I’m just being honest with you. I know you, and I want you to be happy, but I know you tend to get in your own way.”

“Okay, okay.” I took a breath as my eyes darted to Draco once again. He was already looking at me, his face unreadable. We locked eyes for a few seconds before he moved away first to look at Zabini. A blush crept up my face, and though Hermione looked curious as to who had just made me blush, she didn’t look around. 

“I guess...I guess I’ll tell him, then.”

\-------

Finding a moment alone with Draco that day proved to be much harder than I thought. I had to admit, I wasn’t trying as hard as I could’ve, but I was so nervous it was practically all that crossed my mind during all my classes. 

I mean, what the hell would I even _say_ in a situation like that? _Hey, Draco, I’m in love with you, too, even though you’ve done basically everything you can to stop that?_ Or, _Hey, Draco, you know how you’ve confessed your feelings practically a million times by now and all I’ve done is stand there like an idiot? Well, I finally have enough balls to tell you I love you, too._

And there was another thing. Draco had never said he loved me. I think that had been on purpose; he’d always said he’d fallen in love with me, putting emphasis on the fact that it hadn’t been his choice. 

It hadn’t been mine, either. Why would I choose to fall for someone who hurt me so much and with so little remorse? Why would the one person who makes my life hell be the one person I can’t live without?

I had no answer, but it was true, regardless of me trying to fight it. It was clear this wasn’t going to stop, that I was going to continue to fall harder and harder until I inevitably crashed. I had tried to avoid it, but that had failed miserably. The only way, it seemed, was through. 

Potions was fucking unbearable. More than usual. By the time the class began, I felt so overwhelmed by my thoughts that seeing Draco nearly made me collapse. I silently pleaded for him to do _anything_ to hurt me or piss me off, just so that I could unscramble my thoughts a bit. I needed that bit of normalcy. 

But unfortunately, I never got what I wanted, because Professor Slughorn assigned a solo potion, and Draco was unusually quiet as he worked. Unusually focused and studious. 

Bloody git. He could never just...just help me out, could he?

No, he just stood there, looking like he didn’t have a damn care in the world. Looking like a fucking marble statue, like a work of art. Bastard. Draco couldn’t make this easy, could he? Confessing my feelings already had my nerves fried by that class, but he had the audacity to look perfect as we brewed our potions. Not a single hair out of place, not a single thing about him that I could pick out and turn over in my head until it bothered me enough that I felt calmer. 

Because if he was nice, if he was steady or calm, I really didn’t think I could do it. That might give me false hope. I wasn’t confessing my feelings to further our relationship, or at least I didn’t think I was. I was doing it just to get it out of my head so it didn’t continue to fester the way that it had been for so many weeks. 

If he made me angry, maybe I could continue to fool myself that this didn’t need to happen. 

Potions ended, and I knew that I needed to do it then, so I could catch him alone before he went to his dormitory or to dinner and became surrounded with people. It was already terrifying enough that I was doing this in the first place, but if people witnessed it?

Christ, I might as well just end my life right then and there. 

Quickly clearing out my cauldron and returning my ingredients, I made sure that Draco and I left at the same time. I felt a bit creepy, tailing him like this, but I guessed he probably wanted others not to be around while I did this as well. I doubted he’d be able to stomach the embarrassment if his fellow Slytherins caught wind of me professing my love for their star student. 

Keeping back a ways, I followed his route out of the dungeon. I was a bit shocked that he was heading towards the upper levels of the castle instead of his dormitory, but I continued my course, because I had to do it now, or I truly never would. My heart was thundering in my ears, and I hoped that the students who passed me couldn’t tell that I was on the verge of throwing up because of how nervous I felt. 

Slowly, so slowly, the hallways grew emptier and emptier as we traveled up stairs and through corridors, until it was only us. Draco turned sharply, making me stop in my tracks a few feet away from him. 

“Are you going to tell me why the hell you’re following me, or are you going to just keep stalking me?” Draco asked me. There wasn’t anger in his voice, there was just...nothing. 

I took a breath, trying to steady my thumping heart and shaking hands. “I needed to talk to you, and you’ve been gone for the past week.”

“And you couldn’t have done it in either of the classes we had together today?” 

There it was; there was that bit of fire. “No, actually, I couldn’t,” I said, biting the inside of my lip. “This isn’t something that I figured you would want anyone else to hear.”

Draco’s elegant brow quirked up, his mouth pressing into a thin line. “And just what do you have to tell me that’s so private, Adler?”

It was such a simple action, him calling me by my last name, but it was nearly enough to convince me this whole thing was a mistake. I couldn’t back out now, though, because Draco wouldn’t let me go until I told him, and I didn’t have a lie handy that was believable enough. I couldn’t stop from asking, “So it’s Adler again?” 

What I really meant was, _Why isn’t it Elaine?_

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Draco drawled cooly. As if he didn’t already know. 

_Fucking git. Always had to fucking make things complicated._

“Because,” I said, stepping forward. And _fuck_ , when his cologne hit my nose, my knees almost buckled. That familiar warm, musky scent that made me think of heated kisses and cold hands and silver eyes. “Because-”

“Because what?” Draco snapped, clearly impatient. 

My fists clenched at my side. “God, can you let me fucking talk? That’s part of the reason I have to fucking do this. You never let me talk.”

Draco looked at me like he was about two seconds away from hexing me, but I persisted. “Because, you fucking asshole, I wanted to tell you that I’m fucking in love with you, okay? You’ve been gone, and I wanted to tell you I’m in love with you and I know you probably don’t give a damn about how I feel, but there it is,” I blurted out, my words jumbling and my tongue feeling like it was made of lead. 

A second passed, then five, then ten, and Draco said absolutely nothing. His face didn’t even change as he looked at me, his icy eyes hard and guarded. 

Finally, he said, “My father called me home for family business.”

“What?” I spluttered. 

“You said I was gone. My father called me home for family business,” Draco repeated, moving closer to me until I could see the dark blue streaks in his silver eyes. 

I could hardly believe my ears. I had nearly worked myself so much I had barely been able to eat that day, and that’s all he had to say? 

“That’s all you have to say?” I asked, disbelief filling my voice. 

Draco’s eyes flickered down, then back up. “And just what do you want me to say, _Elaine_? You want me to break down, cry about the fact that you finally told me how you felt? You want me to profess my love all over again, even though I’ve been a damn fool and I’ve done it three fucking times already?” Draco questioned, so close now that it was hard to catch my breath. 

So close that I could…

“What do you want? Hm?” Draco repeated. “Because all this means is that we’re still in deep shit and I still…” He paused, glancing down again. “What do you want from me? You’re a smart girl, Elaine. You know how this is going to turn out.”

Did I? 

“Do I?” 

Draco rolled his eyes, an action that shouldn’t have made me distracted, but did. “Don’t be stupid.”

I let out a short breath, shaking my head. Mostly to myself, I mumbled, “Christ, I worry for a fucking week about you and this is what I get.”

What did I think was going to happen? I knew Draco well enough by now; what, did I think I was special? Did I think I mattered to him?

“What was that?” Draco asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. 

Clenching my jaw, I shook my head again. “Doesn’t matter.” I shouldn’t have admitted it; I felt so foolish for doing so. 

Quicker than lightning, Draco’s hand shot out to grip my jaw, making me look at him. His hand was cold, making goosebumps spread across my body. “What did you say?” He repeated, with an intensity in his voice that made me drop that wall of stubbornness I had been constructing. 

I glared at him, resisting the urge to cross my arms and cause myself to look utterly childish. “I said, you asshole, that I was worried about you. You were gone for a week and I worried about you. Make fun of me all you fucking want, but I couldn’t help it. I was worried, alright?”

As soon as I finished, Draco’s mouth was crashing down onto mine with a fervor that I’d never seen before. Like he had been...like he had been waiting to kiss me for a while. I could hardly kiss back at first as shock ran through me, but once his lips softened the tiniest bit, I returned his affection with just as much, if not more, passion. 

If I had thought just smelling his cologne affected me so much, kissing him nearly had me collapsing. It felt so _good_ to finally kiss him again after so long. To feel his mouth on mine, his hand on my face, his body so close. 

I couldn’t help it; I reached out, throwing my arms around his neck in an embrace that felt strangely intimate so I could tug him in. His hips collided with mine, our chest brushing together as we both panted through our fiery display of affection. 

Draco moved his hand to cup the side of my face, the other belting around my waist and pressing me to him. Almost every bit of our bodies were touching, and I felt like I was on fire; I felt like I was going to burn up, but in a way that would make me incredibly glad to go. 

A twinge in my chest told me that I’d missed him, missed _this_ more than I could’ve ever possibly guessed. 

I scraped his bottom lip with my teeth as we kissed, making Draco groan quietly in the back of his throat. Fuck, that _sound_. I’d never heard something so enticing, so enchanting. Dragging my nails up his neck, I carded my hands through his silky, pale hair, reveling in the feeling of the soft strands between my fingers. 

It felt like I couldn’t get close enough, like there wasn’t enough time or space for me to touch him enough that it would satiate the growing fire sparking in my stomach, in between my hips. It didn’t feel like _enough_. My brain was screaming for more; I was practically aching for it. 

Draco angled my body so that he could back me up into the wall, caging me in with his tall frame, still not letting go of my face. His other arm retracted from my waist and his hand spread across my side, a hot, massive presence againt my shivering form. Draco’s thumb slipped under the hem of my shirt, caressing my bare hip with a touch that was so light, but still so possessive. 

I loved tugging his hair, I loved the low sounds it caused Draco to emit, but I couldn’t resist the hard, smooth surface of his chest and abdomen. One hand slipped from his hair, trailing down his shoulder and came to rest on his pectoral, feeling the muscle shift beneath his white school shirt that alwasy hugged his shoulders and torso so mouth-wateringly tight. Absent-mindly, I lightly scratched my short nails down his chest, and his hand on my side clamped down roughly as he groaned at the gentle pain. 

Involuntarily, as Draco swiped his tongue across my lower lip, my hips canted into his. He pulled back as I did, and I was worried that somehow I’d accidentally crossed some invisible line he’d drawn and hadn’t told me about. 

“Elaine,” Draco started, and I felt heat course through me at the sound of my name on his lips. “Elaine, you said, in Snape’s office, you said-”

It was cute, seeing him almost flustered as I realized what he was saying. What he was asking. I barely even thought about my answer before I spoke. 

“I know what I said. I don’t think I still feel that way,” I told him, my hands still twisted in his hair, his arm still slung around my waist. 

The hungry want that ignited in his eyes was enough to have arousal pool between my thighs. “Then...?” Draco trailed off, waiting for me to complete his thought. 

I bit my lip and nodded. “Yes, um, I think so. I think I want-”

And once more, Draco swallowed my words with his mouth, his arms pulling me in so tightly I had difficulty breathing as I pressed against his warm body. After a few moments, Draco ended the kiss. 

“My dorm is closest,” he told me, making my heartbeat skyrocket as I realized I was actually going to do what I was implying. 

I was about to have sex for the first time. With Draco Malfoy. I’d done things with Harry, with other boys, but...but I had never wanted it like I did right then. It had never felt like I was burning for it, like I needed it like a dehydrated man needed water. 

I needed _all_ of Draco. I wanted to feel every bit of his bare skin, I wanted to see the beautiful planes of his chest, the sharp edges of his hip bones. 

And god, I wanted to see lower than that. 

When did that thought stop being disgusting, and start being the most appealing thing in the world? 

I nodded, and Draco stepped back, leading the way back to his private Prefect dorm. My hands were shaking and my breath was short, tense, like I was walking to the gallows instead of Draco’s room. I figured that in a way, I was. If I did this, if I gave him this, and things ended terribly like they most likely would, would I regret it?

  
The only answer I could think of was a resounding _no_.


	33. Release

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new years my dear readers! okay i know ive made you wait 32 chapters for this, but its finally here and,,,its good. it is elaines first time so its not the most spicy, but itll get better (worse?) now that theyve gotten the first time out of the way so uhhh enjoy!

My heart was beating so hard it felt like it was bruising my rib cage as Draco locked the door of his Prefect dormitory, the soft click of the lock feeling like a clap of thunder once it slid into place. His room was...well, the only word I could think of was  _ elegant _ as I took in my surroundings. It was almost as large as my shared dormitory, which only bothered me a little bit as I realized what the privacy truly meant. 

His four-poster bed had an emerald green comforter and more ivory pillows than I could count. The bedside table next to it was a dark wood, with a stack of books and two of his silver rings lying beside them. There was an armoire made of the same dark wood that I knew was full of only the most expensive and well-tailored clothing that was pushed up against the wall opposite his bed. 

There was a large window on one of the walls that looked out into the Black Lake, casting shimmering shadows as the water swirled and the plants and creatures that lived within swam around. The glass was slightly frosted to offer privacy to the room’s inhabitants, which I was rather thankful for in that particular moment. Draco even had his own bathroom, and from what I could see, it was all white porcelain and black and green towels.

Draco noticed me admiring his room, causing his lips to tug up in a small smirk. “I know, it’s nice. I had to put up with Crabbe and Goyle’s shit for the first few months of the year since there was something wrong with the plumbing in the shower. Soaked the carpet every time someone tried to take a shower.”

I couldn’t help the way my face furrowed as he spoke. Was Draco really talking about his  _ shower _ right now? Call me crazy, but that topic didn’t really seem to fit the mood or the way my hands were itching to touch him again. 

“You know, I was always just so curious about the history of your bathroom’s plumbing,” I joked, hoping my nerves weren’t showing through. 

In the blink of an eye, Draco moved forward, grabbing my wrist and pulling me so he could crowd me up against the now-locked door. I felt my breath stick in my lungs for a moment as his eyes darkened, his hand pinning my wrist to the door beside my head.    
  


“Are you ever not a sarcastic little shit?” Draco mused as he pressed me against the solid wood, one finger coming to rest under my chin to tilt my face up. His silver eyes glinted with something unnameable but so fucking intoxicating as he took in the way such a simple touch affected me so much. 

I shook my head, the whisper of a grin starting to spread over my face until Draco slowly ground his hips into mine, making me let out a soft whimper as I felt him against me. A short, huff of a laugh came from Draco as I reacted, making a blush prick my cheeks. 

“So cheeky,” Draco muttered, his mouth so close there was little room for even air between our lips as he spoke. “You’re always running this little mouth of yours,” he continued, brushing his thumb against my bottom lip lightly. “I can’t wait until all you can say is my name as I’m making you feel so fucking good you can barely even  _ think _ .”

His words ignited that burning ache between my legs that was almost always at least a bit present whenever he was around, and I just wanted his mouth on mine, or his hands on me, or  _ something _ . Something more than a faint brush of his hips against mine, something more than his thumb across my lip. 

I was nervous; of course I was. I was nervous, but only because I’d never done  _ this  _ before, but not because it was Draco. I was worried that I might be terrible, but I wasn’t worried about Draco. 

“You know, Elaine,” Draco said, snapping my attention back to him. “You really are pretty.”

_ Fuck _ . Those four words made my knees nearly give out and made the heat pooling between my legs so much worse.  _ Pretty _ . Draco thought I was  _ pretty _ . 

Wonders really do never cease, do they? 

I couldn’t help the way my eyelids fluttered, the way my hips twitched as he complimented me. Draco noticed- of course he did- but he didn’t say anything about it. 

“You’re going to look even prettier when I’m buried deep inside of you.”

A soft breath left me as my mouth dropped open slightly in aroused shock. Never had someone said something so dirty, so fucking  _ enticing _ to me. Draco smiled, a sultry, lust-filled look. 

“Draco,” I breathed. 

“Yes?’

“If you don’t kiss me right now, I’ll-”

I couldn’t even finish my threat as Draco’s mouth crashed into mine again with the same heat as before, but with a slower pace, making fiery want build in me. He was crushing my wrist against the door in a way that made the wood bite into my skin, but I hardly cared, especially when his other wrapped delicately around my neck, as if he were afraid I would break. 

I wasn’t going to, and I needed him to treat me like I was unbreakable. I didn’t know how, I just knew that if he treated me so gently all throughout the night, I’d feel too fragile. Too frail. 

And I didn’t want to feel breakable. I didn’t want to feel sweet, or soft, or shaky. There was something in me craving the toxicity that Draco provided. Something inside of me longed for the half-hearted insults, and the angry glares, and the way that Draco gave me shit because he knew I could handle it. 

Taking my free hand, I covered his hand with mine, squeezing down to prompt him to put pressure on my throat. With a soft groan, Draco complied, granting me that deliciously dizzying feeling of pleasure as his fingertips dug into the sides of my throat. 

My hips kicked, seeking friction as Draco’s lips were slotted between my own.  _ God _ , they were warmer, softer, than I remembered. I was beginning to memorize the distinct taste of his mouth, the one that sent sparks dancing along my spine. I’d kissed a few people before him, but none of them had ever made me feel so insatiable, like I couldn’t ever get enough of the way his mouth moved against my own. 

Draco let go of me to slip his hands to the backs of my thighs, gripping them tightly. With an effortless movement, he had me lifted off the ground, my legs coming to wrap around his waist. It reminded me of that time in the Room of Requirement, the first time that we had kissed. 

It seemed like forever ago. 

The new angle of my legs allowed Draco to slide his hips teasingly against mine, making sure I felt every damn inch of him. Draco’s mouth swallowed the breathy groan I emitted as he did. My noise seemed to encourage him and he repeated the motion, letting me feel just how much he was enjoying this. I found myself needing even more friction, but with my body practically pinned against the door, all I could do was endure the teasing drag of Draco’s body against my own. 

That pulsating ache in my hips was starting to drive me crazy, so I tore my mouth away from Draco’s, causing his forehead to wrinkle almost imperceptibly. 

With a shaky voice, I said, “Are we ever going to put that massive bed of yours to use?”

“I could just fuck you against the door,” Draco replied casually, as if we were discussing the weather. “You seem like the kind of girl who would like that.”

Bastard. Correct, but he’s still a bastard.

Trying not to gape at him, I rolled my eyes. “Ah, yes, every girl’s dream is to have her first time against a nice cold door.”

Draco bit his lip, as if trying to hide his amusement. “Next time, then,” he said, but the way his voice lilted made it sound more like a suggestion. His hands squeezed my thighs faintly. 

An offer. 

_ Next time _ . I hadn’t even  _ done _ anything with Draco, and I was already anticipating the next time.  _ He _ was already anticipating a next time. That idea made my head spin. Fuck, I was in deep, wasn’t I?

“Well, that depends on how this goes, doesn’t it?” I asked.  _ Teased _ . “For all I know, you could be terrible in bed.”

With those eyes, with that smile, with the way his hips moved, there was no chance in hell I believed he was going to be anything other than amazing, but I couldn’t help myself; goading him was something I could never resist.

Draco’s eyes narrowed, and he pulled back from me, instantly making me miss the heat of his proximity. “Is that a challenge, Adler?”

“You talk big,  _ Malfoy _ ,” I replied, running a hand down his chest to splay over his abdomen. “I just want to see if you can back it up.”

Apparently, that was the perfect thing to say to egg Draco on, because he tore me away from the wall, carrying me towards the bed and tossing me down. I let out a quiet noise of surprise as I hit the bed, bouncing a bit with the impact. I propped myself up on my elbows, unabashedly taking in the beautiful blond boy standing in front of me. 

Perhaps it was a trick of light, but a shimmer seemed to ripple over his arm where his sleeve was pushed up, like a spell was beginning to wear off. Draco noticed the concern that danced across my features, making him pause. 

Walking to me, he stood over the bed, looking down at me. “Do you not want to do this?” He asked, and there was the faintest trace of worry, or maybe disappointment, that lined his words. 

I shook my head. “No, I do. Believe me, I do,” I assured him, my eyes trailing down to where his white shirt had come untucked from his pants. 

He nodded, looking pleased with my answer but trying hard not to show it.“I’m not going to be gentle, you know,” Draco informed me simply, his eyes raking over my figure. He lingered at my neck, at my chest and my thighs, making my heart jump excitedly. “I want to make you scream.”

I hated the way a blush crept up my neck at the promise in his words. I met his gaze, making sure that he saw the certainty and the lust in my eyes. “Good.”

At that, Draco bent down and delivered a kiss that left me breathless and panting before grabbing my thighs roughly and tugging me to the edge of the bed. I let out a soft shriek at the sudden movement, but I found I rather enjoyed the harsh way he moved me. With my legs dangling over the edge of the plush bed, Draco began trailing hot, slow kisses across my jaw and down my neck. Every time his teeth scraped my sensitive skin, my hips jumped in search of friction. 

I was slightly embarrassed about how needy my body seemed to be, but it only spurred Draco on, causing him to bite down harder. His hands drew a slow, dancing pattern as he dragged them up my body, igniting heat low in my stomach. Once his mouth had reached the collar of my shirt, Draco’s hands began unbuttoning my shirt at a speed that nearly drove me insane. It seemed to take him forever to undo each button, and after each was completed, he would press a fiery kiss to the newest expanse of exposed skin. 

He kissed down my body, down the valley formed by my chest, down the smooth area of my stomach, until my shirt was entirely unbuttoned. Using one of the undone sides, Draco tugged my torso up so that I was sitting, and shoved the fabric over my shoulders and down my arms, leaving me topless. He was kneeling in between my legs now, and even though the bed gave me a few inches of height over him, the power and dominance in his eyes made me feel small in the best way possible. 

I noticed the way his eyes caught on the small, raised circles of scarring that dotted the tops of my arms and shoulders, and my gut twisted unpleasantly at the reminder of their existence. Draco’s face hardened for a moment, anger flashing in his silver eyes, before he moved down to my chest. 

My bra was plain, merely a simple black, but from the look in Draco’s eyes, I would’ve thought he was looking at a priceless piece of art. I could see the way he followed the curve of my breasts, his erection twitching against the restraining material of his black pants. 

“Shit,” he breathed, bringing up a finger to trace over the swell of my chest and down to my cleavage. 

My breath hitched in response. I’d never been incredibly pleased with the size of my chest, but the way that Draco was acting made me feel ridiculous for ever being ashamed of it. With an experienced touch, he reached behind me and unclasped my bra. 

The second it was off, his mouth was attacking the tender skin of my breasts, sucking rough bruises onto the unmarred skin. I let out a gasp as I felt the warmth of his lips against my nipple, but when he tugged it suddenly with his teeth, the sound that came from me was near pornographic. 

Draco continued to leave spots of red and purple across my chest as his hand slipped under the hem of my skirt, making me jump at the cold touch. 

Sliding his hand up further to brush the hem of my underwear, Draco looked up at me, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Can’t believe Saint Potter is the only person who’s ever touched you like this,” Draco drawled, toying with the lace fabric. “Did you moan for him, Elaine? Did he make you feel good?”

I bit my lower lip at his teasing touch, suddenly incredibly aware of just how damp I was becoming. A sharp, short pain erupted in my leg as Draco brought his hand down, slapping my thigh not quite hard enough to really hurt, but enough that it made me gasp. 

“I asked you a question,” Draco growled. 

“Yes,” I stuttered as he returned to my underwear, but this time, he slipped under the hem, moving down to touch the center of pleasure at the apex of my hips. I whined quietly, the icy temperature of Draco’s fingers a shock against the warmth between my thighs. “I d-did. He did,” I told Draco as he started rubbing painfully slow circles. 

“Oh,” Draco smirked, forgetting about his previous inquiry. “You liked that, didn’t you? You like when I hit you.” 

He lifted his hand, repeating the slap. My hips bucked this time, arousal pooling onto my underwear, surprising even myself. Another slap, even harder this time, prompting me to answer. 

“Yes,” I breathed, feeling the stinging heat radiating through my leg and up to my hips, making me drip. “ _ Shit _ , why-”

Another slap, combined with his circling touch between my legs had me whining. “Because, Elaine, you like when I hurt you. Why the hell do you think you like me at all?” Draco said, making me bite the inside of my cheek as his statement rang true in my mind. “You like me hurting you, because you  _ crave  _ it, and I’m the only person you trust enough and hate enough to want it from.”

I could feel the skin on my thigh was starting to redden, and he was  _ right _ , goddammit. Draco was always fucking right about me, wasn’t he? With another cocky smirk, Draco hit the sensitive skin of my thigh again, and increased his pace at the same time, making a gasping moan fall from my lips. 

It felt good,  _ god _ , it felt so good, but it wasn’t nearly enough to even begin to satiate the building ache that was burning inside me. 

As if he could read my mind, he lowered his touch, pressing just inside of me as he said, “I’m going to fuck you so good you won’t even be able to  _ think _ about anything besides me inside of you.”

“ _ Fuck _ ,” I groaned as Draco entered me with two fingers. 

Draco huffed a laugh at my reaction. “You’re already so wet, and I’ve barely done anything,” he mused, almost mocking me, but it was hard to care as I felt his fingers curl up and hit that sensitive bundle of nerves that I’d only heard about before. My mouth fell open in pleasure, my eyes squeezing shut as I felt his fingers work inside of me. “You got wet, this fucking wet, from me kissing you and hitting you,” Draco told me. “Doesn’t fucking surprise me, you know that? I knew you’d like that.”

“Is-isn’t that a good thing?” I panted as shocks of pleasure coursed through me. 

I would’ve put good money on the fact that my words probably caused Draco to roll his eyes even though my own were shut. Without warning, he withdrew his fingers, leaving me feeling empty in a way I’d never felt before. My eyes opened to see Draco standing up with an annoyed look on his face. 

“You talk too fucking much,” he snapped. “Come here.”

I stood up, but a rough shove from Draco had me dropping to my knees in front of him. I winced at the impact, pain jarring my bones as I landed. As I looked up at him, Draco brought his hands down to undo his belt, which was now right in front of my face. 

Anticipation coiled in my stomach as I realized what was about to happen. “I’ve never-”

“I don’t care,” Draco grunted as he pulled out his belt and tossed it on the bed. After undoing his zipper, he snagged a handful of my hair and yanked me closer, almost making me fall as I braced my hands on his thighs. “I want to see that pretty mouth of yours do something other than talk.”

Even as I felt disgruntled at his comment, I could feel that my body’s reaction was much more positive as lust hit me once more. “But I-”

“Merlin’s beard, Elaine,” Draco sighed. “Tap on my thigh twice if you need me to slow down, okay? It’s not fucking rocket science, or whatever Muggles say.”

Then, in a softer voice: “You’ll be okay.”

I nodded, and Draco pushed down his pants, letting his cock spring free. “ _ Oh _ ,” I whispered. 

_ Christ _ , he was bigger than I thought. He was long,  _ thick _ , in a way that made me worry that I might not be able to handle all of him. With a tentative hand, I wrapped my fingers around the base of his cock, bringing my mouth to his tip and lightly licking the underside of his head. 

It was a new taste, but it wasn’t a bad one. A bit salty, slightly heady, as I swirled my tongue in a messy circle around the tip of him, tasting the precum that was starting to bead up.

Draco sucked a breath through his teeth, making me lick another longer, broader stripe from where my hand was to the tip. Draco’s hips canted as I did, sliding just barely into my mouth before pulling back out again. It seemed like I was doing an alright job, so I wrapped my mouth around Draco, hollowing my cheeks in the way I’d heard Cho talk about right after she first got with Cedric.

Slowly, I lowered my head, feeling his length glide across my tongue until it hit the back of my throat. Draco let out a loud groan, tightening his grip on my hair and making me moan in return. Removing my hand, I looked up at Draco, his cock still between my lips. A silent invitation, one that I was praying he would take. 

Draco pressed his hips forward, then pulled back out, testing my reaction. Once he saw that I could handle it, he began pumping in and out of my mouth, making me groan quietly. I’d heard girls complain about giving head, but the way that Draco’s cock filled my mouth, the way he leaned his head back in pleasure as he moved, had me wondering how anyone could hate this. 

As he fucked my mouth, Draco grunted out, “ _ Shit _ , Elaine. How does it feel to be on your knees for someone like me? For someone you used to,  _ fuck _ , someone you used to hate?” 

I moaned around his cock, earning another curse and another sharp thrust from Draco. I did used to hate him, didn’t I? But that fact had stopped bothering me the moment he’d kissed me tonight. 

It had stopped...it had stopped the moment he’d given enough of a shit about me to ask about the black eye my father had given me. 

The slick noises that came every time Draco moved had my cheeks burning slightly with embarrassment, but I couldn’t deny that I loved this. For some reason, I  _ liked _ being on my knees for Draco, and I loved being the reason that his rosy mouth was dropped open in a continuous sigh of pleasure as he fucked my mouth. 

His cock was hitting the back of my throat occasionally, making me gag slightly. Drool was starting to drip down my mouth and onto my chin, creating a rather messy, but strangely exhilarating feeling. There was something so fucking sinful about not even being able to really breathe as Draco used my mouth that was making my underwear wetter by the second. 

“So  _ good _ ,” he panted. “Maybe I’ll just do this every time I want you to shut up. Maybe I’ll just pull you to a closet or a bathroom and just use your mouth until you shut up.”

_ Fuck _ . That idea made my thighs clench together as I thought about Draco dragging me off to use my mouth whenever he wanted. 

_ My god,  _ I thought.  _ Even I didn’t know I was so into that _ . 

With a shuddering groan, Draco pulled out of my mouth, my spit slightly dripping down my chin as he moved back. He looked down at me, his eyes heavy and his pupils blown with lust. “Get on the bed.”

Draco removed his pants, then his boxers, as I stood up shakily and sat back on the bed. Once his pants and shoes were kicked off, I laid back, admiring the way his lithe muscles shifted as he moved. Draco really was something out of a myth, with his white hair and silver eyes and that devilish grin that did very dirty, very  _ hot _ things to me. 

“Move back,” he told me, and I laid down in the middle of the bed, Draco getting on after me. 

Kneeling once more between my legs, he grabbed the backs of my thighs just below my knees and brought my hips flush with his. Only my underwear separated us, and I reached down to take it off, but Draco captured both my wrists in a single hand and pinned my arms above my head. 

The fact that Draco could restraint me so easily had me nearly drooling, but I wasn’t about to let him know that. I tried, albeit half-heartedly, to tug my wrists out of his grip, earning a growl and a sharp slap to the back of my leg. 

I couldn’t hold back the breathy moan that burst from my mouth at the pain and Draco smirked at the noise. Grabbing his wand that was resting on his bedside table, he cast a contraceptive charm, making my abdomen grow hot for a moment before it faded. Tossing his wand aside, Draco looked at me hungrily as I lay beneath him.

“You wanted me to fuck you, to be your first time,” Draco said roughly, using his other hand to tear off my underwear, exposing my wetness. Lining up his cock, he pressed the first few inches of himself inside of me, making me gasp as he filled me,  _ stretched _ me. “Then let  _ me _ fucking doing it.”

“You wanted me to be your first, not fucking  _ Potter, _ or anyone else,” Draco continued, slowly moving deeper. “ _ Me _ . Even though you’ll likely regret this, won’t you?”

His cock was so  _ big _ , making me feel so  _ full _ in a way I’d never dreamed of. It hurt, but in the kind of way that sent tingles of pleasure shooting up my spine as he sunk into me inch by inch. “N-No,” I gasped. “I n-never regret you.” Because I  _ didn’t _ . I didn’t regret a single damn thing I’d done with him this year. 

At my words, Draco let out a shuddering moan and sunk into me entirely until our hips were pressed together. The sheer size of him had my lungs struggling for breath as my body adjusted, as his cock stretched me to the point that I was sure it would hurt to walk the next day. 

“Bloody fucking hell,” Draco swore, looking down at where our bodies were joined, then up at my eyes, which were watering from the strange but incredibly wonderful mixture of pleasure and pain. “Can I..?”

I didn’t think I’d adjusted quite enough yet, but I couldn’t handle waiting anymore. With a terse nod from me, Draco lifted his hips from mine, then slammed back down in short, but deep, rough strokes that had me panting almost instantly. With every thrust, a choked moan left my mouth, until Draco wrapped his hand around my neck again, cutting off my noises. 

“ _ Fuck _ , Elaine,” Draco moaned. “So,”  _ thrust _ , “Fucking,”  _ thrust _ , “Tight,”  _ thrust _ . “I’m going to fucking  _ ruin _ you.”

Between his hand around my neck and his unforgiving pace, I wasn’t even sure what kinds of noises I was making, because the only thing that I could think about was Draco. Every movement sent sparks up my spine, sent bolts of pleasure racing through me, and all I could focus on was how fucking full I felt. 

I raised both my legs so that my calves were resting on Draco’s pale shoulders, and I nearly cried out with ecstasy at the way Draco sunk so much further into me because of the new angle. A constant stream of curses was pouring from his mouth as he pumped his hips into mine. My own moans were a broken stream of pants and whines and gasps for breath as Draco let go of his tight grip on my throat every so often to grant me more air. 

Draco’s other hand was clasped onto my thigh so tightly I was sure it was going to bruise, but I found myself  _ wanting _ it to. I wanted some memory of this painted on my body, so that no matter how Draco treated me afterwards, I knew that it was real. That he had given me all of this.

As he pushed into me again, I let out a broken moan. “ _ Fuck _ , Draco,” I groaned, my hands groping for purchase on his bed sheets. 

Draco suddenly paused, making my face flush. “What did you just say?”

“D-Draco?” I repeated breathlessly.  _ Shit _ , did he not want me to-

“Say it again,” Draco grunted as he resumed his movements. 

As he hit the spot just inside me that caused fireworks to explode behind my eyelids, I moaned his name again, louder this time. “ _ Draco.” _

“I-  _ fuck _ \- I love the way you say my name,” Draco groaned. “Not my last name, but  _ my _ name.”

A small part of my brain lit up at that confession, but I didn’t have to ability to internalize it as Draco continued to fuck me so hard I was genuinely seeing stars. I could feel my release building, soaring up like a rocket, and I hoped Draco was feeling the same.

Much shorter than I had thought I’d last, but  _ god _ , it felt better than I could’ve ever imagined. Better than I  _ had _ imagined, the few times that I’d let myself think about Draco that way. Suddenly, he released my throat and a quick pain lashed across my face. It took me a moment to understand that he had just slapped me, but once I did, I couldn’t stop myself from begging, “ _ Again _ .”

Swearing, Draco drew his hand back and whipped across my face once more. It wasn’t the hardest he probably could’ve done it, but it was rough enough that it forced my head to the side as I groaned, my eyes rolling back with pleasure. 

“You’re a damn whore, aren’t you?” Draco growled, and without thinking, I nodded quickly. “I hit you, and you beg for more like you’ll fucking die without out it. Like you’ll fucking die without  _ me _ deep inside of you, huh?”

His pace was fast, punishing, making it hard to even form thoughts as his hips slapped so hard against mine it felt like they were going to bruise. Moving my legs down to wrap around his hips, Draco leaned over me, using his forearms to hold himself up as he kept up his pace. 

“You fucking need me, don’t you? That’s why you never fucking stay away,” Draco rasped between gruff moans that had shivers running down my spine. “That’s why I can never fucking stay away,” he whispered as he dropped his head down onto my shoulder. 

My hands came up from the sheets, my nails digging into his back as he fucked me. Accidentally, my nails scratched down his back, but Draco let out a moan so deep, so pleasured, that I did it once more. I wasn’t being careful; in fact, I was almost  _ trying _ to cause him pain, and he seemed to love it. Draco’s hips began to stutter, his breath quickening as his release approached. 

“Elaine, I’m going to-”

I wrapped my legs tight around his hips, drawing him in, his thrusts deep and long and hard. Draco let out a lengthy, growling moan as he came, his hips slowing only after he had emptied entirely into me. My own release plateaued as he pulled out, reminding me I hadn't finished. I was...okay, I was disappointed, but it wasn't the end of the world, right? 

I wasn’t sure what made me wrap my legs around his hips like that, but as Draco sat up, his chest heaving, the look in his eyes was so fucking worth it. With a slight wince from both of us, Draco pulled out, leaving me feeling emptier than I ever thought was possible. His hair was curling on his forehead and around his neck because of his sweat, and his cheeks were flushed red with effort.

He looked...he looked  _ beautiful _ . 

Draco bit his lip as he looked between my legs, at where I could feel his come dripping out of me. My face heated with insane embarrassment, and I tried to close my legs, but Draco grabbed both of my thighs and forced them apart. 

“Look at you, all fucking breathless with my come dripping out of you,” Draco said. “I bet you’re sore and sensitive now, aren’t you? Ready to recover and rest?”

As he spoke, he dipped two fingers back into me, making me hiss softly at the intrusion, because I  _ was _ . 

With a faint curl of his lips, Draco lowered himself down onto his stomach. “Too bad we’re not done yet.”


	34. Release (part two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit--this story reached 10k hits a few days ago and i am just...genuinely fucking astounded at the amount of love and support that you guys have shown this story. i cant believe how many people have enjoyed this story and i am so thankful that i get to create this for you guys. you, dear readers, truly mean the entire damn world to me. thank you SO much.

“What- _ oh _ ,” I sighed as Draco’s hot breath fanned across my hips. 

His fingers curled up, hitting that spot that made my head spin and my breath catch in my lungs as he worked in and out of me. And then,  _ fuck _ , and then his tongue swirled around my clit, making me jump at the new feeling. 

“Pretty little desperate thing, aren’t you?” Draco murmured against me, his fingers still moving. 

My eyes fluttered as he flattened his tongue, licking a long, slow stroke that made my hips buck against his face. With his free hand, Draco pressed down on my hip, pinning me against the bed. 

“Stay  _ still _ ,” he threatened. “Or I’ll stop right now.”

But he  _ didn’t _ ; his pace sped up, his fingers hitting that spot over and over and I could feel slick wetness dripping out of me as he worked. I was panting,  _ whining _ , already, because I had been so close to the edge before and I was racing back towards that peak again. Draco’s tongue was moving in a way that had me sure I’d never feel that damn good ever again, and I knew that he knew it. 

He had promised to ruin me after all, and Draco wasn’t one to make empty threats. 

I felt my release building up as Draco continued to fuck me with his his long fingers, with his sinful mouth. My hands were threading through his hair, unabashedly pulling his face even closer, and just as I was telling him through broken moans that I was close, that I was about to hurdle over that edge--

Draco stopped. He fucking  _ stopped _ . 

A pathetic sound left my mouth as I felt his fingers still, as he lifted his mouth away from me, and I clamped my lips shut, humiliation filling me. Draco, being the smug asshole he always was, had the audacity to  _ smirk _ at me, to let out a soft noise of amusement. 

“What, Elaine? Did you need something?”

I gritted my teeth, letting go of his hair and refusing to look at him. “Asshole.”

Draco snorted. “You’re feisty when you don’t get what you want.”

“Shut up.”

Curling his fingers once,  _ slowly _ , Draco said, “You think, after how stubborn and difficult and mouthy you are, I’d let you come so easily? That I’d let this,” -another crook of his fingers made my hips press into his touch- “be over so soon? No, Elaine,” Draco told me. “I’m going to make you fucking  _ break _ , because I want to.”

“And,” he continued, a hand creeping up my torso to wrap roughly around my neck, making me look at him. “Because I know you want me to. I know you want me to make you come apart until you can’t handle it, even though you’re going to hate yourself for it later.”

“I,  _ fuck _ , won’t,” I rasped, my voice weak from his hand closing off my airway. “You-you  _ want _ me to hate myself for this. But-but  _ christ _ , Draco,” I panted, the way his fingers moved inside of me making my brain foggy. “Ho-how many damn times do I have to tell you, I-”

A crack followed by a stinging burn across my cheek cut my words off. I gasped, the pain making my back arch as it settled into my skin. 

“Can’t you ever fucking shut up?” Draco growled. “What, did I not fuck you good enough?”

“N-no,” I admitted, because  _ fuck _ , it had been good, but I wanted- no,  _ needed _ \- more of him. More of  _ all _ of him. 

Once more his fingers stilled, and I felt panic well up in me, because maybe I had offended him, or-

“What did you say?” 

“N-no?” I repeated shakily. “I mean-”

“Flip over,” was all Draco said as he slipped his fingers free. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or upset at me, so all I did was turn onto my stomach, the scent of Draco’s cologne wafting faintly from his sheets. 

With rough, unforgiving hands, Draco grabbed my hips, hauling me to my knees so that my arse was in the air. I turned to look at him, but a quick hand pressed my face into the bed, stopping me. Suddenly, I felt Draco’s cock dragging against me, hard once more. I nearly whined at it, at the prospect of him fucking me again, but Draco didn’t push into me. 

“If you’re going to be so damn needy, then you’re going to fucking beg until I think you’ve earned it,” Draco told me, a harsh tone in his voice. “Are you going to let me fuck you, let me make you feel good again, or are you going to be stubborn like always?”

I really didn’t want to beg. I didn’t want to face that humiliation, give Draco the satisfaction of knowing just how much I needed more of him. 

But I really,  _ really _ needed him. 

Softly, almostly inaudibly, I whispered, “Please.”

A sharp slap landed on my arse, making me suck in a shocked breath at the pain. “I can’t hear you.”

“I hate you,” I mumbled, but Draco either didn’t hear or chose not to acknowledge it. “Just...please, Draco, okay?” I said impatiently, a bit louder this time. 

Draco’s hand grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking roughly and pulling my head back, making me rest my weight on my forearms to try and ease the ache. “I’m getting real fucking close to just leaving you a dripping, whining mess, Elaine. C’mon, I know you can do better than that.”

He bent down, his mouth next to my ear as he whispered, “I’ve  _ heard _ you beg better than that.”

My face flushed, Draco’s erection pressing against me as I considered which I cared about more in this particular moment: my dignity, or the burning ache in my hips that was beginning to drive me insane. 

The decision wasn’t as hard as it should’ve been. 

“Please, Draco, fuck me. I-I need you-”

Draco pushed into me, bottoming out on the very first stroke. A high-pitched moan came from me as he filled me up so much I tried to pull away. Draco smacked my arse again, letting go of my hair as both hands came to grab my hips in an unyielding grip. 

“Good girl,” Draco said through gritted teeth as he began slamming into me. “You feel so  _ good _ . Shit, how do you feel so fucking good?”

His strokes were powerful, hard, like he was taking even more of his frustration out on me, but  _ god _ , I didn’t care. I didn’t care a single bit because it felt so fucking good, I wasn’t entirely sure I was still alive because anything that felt this overwhelmingly  _ perfect _ had to be heaven. 

As he fucked me, a hand slipped down between my hips, granting friction to my clit and making me nearly sob with how intense everything felt. Draco’s pace was bruising, unforgiving, and I was soaring towards the edge once more. 

I wasn’t even sure what kind of sounds were leaving my mouth, but I was sure that they were likely whining and pitchy and pathetic as Draco slammed into me over and over and over again. His grunts and moans that came from behind me made my head spin, because he was enjoying this just as much as I was, and that thought had me nearly melting under his touch. 

My grip on his sheets was tight enough that my hands were cramping, but I needed  _ something _ to hold onto as Draco practically fucked me senseless. The heat in my hips was starting to reach that point, the point where I knew I was about to come, so I managed to say between pants and breathy moans, “Draco, I-”

“Not  _ fucking _ yet,” Draco replied, his words choppy due to his labored breathing. 

“But-”

Another hit, this one  _ hard _ , had me yelping in pain as Draco’s hand collided with my ass. “I’m not done fucking you yet. This is what you wanted, remember?”

A half whine, half sob came out of my mouth as he kept me hovering at that precipice, making sure white-hot pleasure was coursing through me but never enough to send me over. Every thrust of his hips punched a moan or a whine or some sort of begging cry out of me and all I could think about was the way he fucked me like he had been waiting forever to do so. 

Maybe he had. God, I fucking hoped he had. 

Draco kept circling my clit until I was close, then would draw his hand away right before I came. Each time, it came faster, and each time, I nearly sobbed when I felt his touch leave me. My thighs were quaking as they held me up, and my shoulders were burning as I tried to keep myself steady while Draco fucked me like there was no tomorrow. 

A hand carded through my hair again, tugging harshly. Draco drew me up, pressing my back against his chest as he continued to pound his hips into me. The new angle had my eyes squeezing shut at the intense, almost overwhelming sensation of Draco being able to bury himself so much deeper into me. 

His arm curled around my throat, holding me to him as his forearm pressed into my windpipe. My hands came up to scratch at it as I choked out, “Draco, please I- _ please _ -”

His hand dropped down to my clit once more, providing that final piece of sensation that had my orgasm barreling closer. “Come for me, Elaine,” Draco grunted, his thrusts keeping a steady, soul-shattering rhythm. “I want to see you fucking fall apart.”

Pleasure, hotter and more intense than I’d ever felt, ripped through me as I let out a high, loud moan. My orgasm shattered me, made my breath stick in my lungs, as I repeated Draco’s name like a fucking prayer while it electrified me. Draco fucked me through my orgasm, pulling out just as he reached his, his come spilling across my reddened arse and back. 

Draco let go of his grip around my throat, sitting back on his haunches and I dropped to my stomach, my legs and arms shaking with effort and the aftershocks of my orgasm. For a moment, all I could do was shake as my body recovered, my breaths shallow and quick as I came down. Draco was panting behind me, surely even more wrecked than I was after coming not once, but twice in less than as many hours. 

Grabbing his wand, Draco muttered softly, and the warm, wet sensation on my back vanished. I whispered a quiet thank you, not quite having enough energy back to even speak at a normal level. 

I felt the bed shift and his bare feet hit the floor, then heard him pad to the bathroom and the door shut behind him. My hips, my legs, my arms, everything burned and ached and groaned in protest as I sat myself up. 

_ Fuck _ , I thought. That was...shit, that was…

Beautiful,  _ perfect _ , just like Draco. 

As I was slowly redressing myself, Draco emerged from the bathroom, his blonde hair wet and slightly slicked back, as if he had gotten his hands wet and ran them through his hair. He was shirtless still, but he was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants that somehow still looked incredibly expensive. In his hands were two cups of water, and I accepted one as he held it out to me. 

Gulping down the water to soothe my parched throat, I felt a strange sort of nervous energy settle on the room. Strange, because, well...Draco and I had just had sex, and yet it felt like we had nothing to say. 

Or, really, like I had  _ everything _ to say but couldn’t figure out where to start. 

I drained the cup, as Draco grabbed it from me, I noticed a mark on the inside of his wrist, like he’d been burnt. Without thinking, I grabbed his wrist, twisting it to get a better look at it. 

“What are you-”

“Christ, is this a  _ burn _ ?” I asked, shocked. 

There was a twisted sort of circle burnt into his wrist about the size of a Knut. It reminded me almost of an ouroboros with the way two lines overlapped and wrapped around each other. The skin was red, raised, as if it were fresh. I instantly knew when,  _ where _ , he had gotten it. My stomach sunk as I looked at the wound. 

He hadn’t had it before he went home, I was sure of that. I was familiar enough with burns that I knew how they healed, and I could tell this one had been inflicted in the past week at the very least. 

Not the Dark Mark, not what Harry had accused him of having in the bathroom that horrific night. But not anything  _ good _ judging by the way my chest tightened with anxiety. 

Draco snatched his arm away, turning to set the empty cups on his nightstand. “It’s nothing.”

I raised my eyebrows at him as he tugged a black long sleeved shirt on, covering his porcelain torso that was corded with muscle. “That looks new. It looks like it hurts, Draco. Have you-”

“Elaine,” Draco interrupted me, looking at me with those piercing silver eyes of his. “Please. Just drop it.”

“Why?” 

“Why?” Draco shook his head. “Don’t play stupid, not right now. You know,” Draco sighed, sitting down on the bed next to me. “And you know I’m not going to tell you even if you bother me about it, which I’m sure that you will.”

I tamped down on the frustration beginning to rise in my chest. It wasn’t a time to be angry or upset at Draco, not when I knew that would just push him away further. “Okay,” I said. 

“Okay?” He repeated, blinking in surprise. 

I nodded, chewing on the inside of my lip. “You don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. Can I at least help you? It looks painful.”

It wasn’t  _ fine _ , and I wanted to press him about it, but I didn’t want to make him angry. And maybe it was selfish, but I wanted to make sure I could remember this night and not feel upset or regretful. I wanted to hear him say what I was beginning to suspect, but this thing between us was still so fucking frgaile; I couldn’t risk shattering it so soon. 

I couldn’t risk losing him so soon after I’d gotten him. 

Draco seemed to think for a moment, then said, “Fine.”

This... _ this _ was familiar territory for me. Healing Draco was something I knew how to do, and it helped steady my concerns as I grabbed my wand. Draco pushed up his sleeve, presenting the burn to me. I cradled his hand in mine and cast a cooling charm over the burn. Draco let out a soft sigh as the cold settled over his skin, but didn’t remove his hand from mine. 

“Thank you,” he breathed, so softly I had to strain to hear it. 

“You should probably get some salve for that, too,” I said. “It’s going to get infected if you don’t.”

“Yeah. Sure,” Draco said flatly, and I knew there was no way he was going to do anything to heal or cover the burned skin. 

Nodding, I stood up, figuring now was as good a time as any to leave. Draco likely didn’t want me to stay, and I didn’t feel terribly inclined to embarrass myself by asking him if I could, so I grabbed my shoes that had been discarded by the foot of his bed. 

I slid my feet into them, then my wand into my waistband. Truthfully, I wanted Draco to say something, at the very least. Maybe a… “I had a fun time,” or “See you around,” but he didn’t. He didn’t say anything, just watched as I tried to make sure my hair didn’t look too indicative of my recent activities. 

It...kind of opened a hole in my chest that grew wider every second that passed with silence. I wanted to talk about tonight, about what we’d done together, but I’d bet every penny I had that Draco would rather burn himself again than do that. My head was still spinning slightly at the fact that I had just been fucked by Draco Malfoy, and I was certain I’d have a bit of an episode about it in the near future. Not a breakdown, at least I didn’t think so. But I definitely was not feeling as casual about the whole thing as I was appearing to be. 

As I walked to the door, accepting that he wasn’t going to say a damn thing, he said, “Wait.”

My heart skipped more than a few beats as I turned to look at him, hoping he would say-

“I want to teach you Occlumency.”

Well, it was safe to say that was the last damn thing I’d thought he was about to say. “Pardon?’

Draco rolled his eyes, standing up and walking towards me. “Occlumency, Elaine. Surely you pay at least a bit of attention in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“I know what it is,” I shot back, narrowing my eyes at him. “Excuse me if I’m surprised you’re bringing it up right now.”

The corner of Draco’s mouth curled into the smallest smile. “Sorry it’s not a confession of my undying love. I thought I’d save that when I really want to catch you off guard. Seems like it does the job rather well.” 

“Shut it,” I said, but his joke- was that his version of joking?- made my chest flutter. 

“So?”

“So what?”

Draco groaned. “Merlin’s fucking beard. Occlumency, Elaine. I’m going to teach you.”

“Why?” I asked, because it was such an odd request, one that I’d never thought he’d come to me with. 

Draco pressed his lips together, running a hand through his hair. “So many questions,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “Because after Snape finding out that you have a propensity for being either incredibly nosy or always being in the wrong place at the wrong time, I figured that it might be useful for you to know how to block someone out of your head. Knowing you, you’ll manage to get yourself into shit sooner rather than later, and you know things certain people would be rather interested in. Things about me.”

It made sense, to tell the truth. My fun little interrogation with Snape had been anything but pleasant, and I had been scared he’d just dive into my head and tear apart my memories in search of anything that would make him consider me a threat. From what I’d learned, it was an incredibly difficult skill to learn, let alone perfect. Sometimes, it took witches and wizards years to master it. 

“Are you a Legillimens?” I asked. 

“Yes, since my third year.”

_ Woah _ . That was no small feat. Sometimes...sometimes, I forgot that Draco really was smarter than anyone even knew. He might even be smarter than Hermione in some areas. And yes, okay, that did make me fall a little bit harder for him. 

I was genuinely impressed, like I was with most things I’d learned about him over the course of the year. He acted like he hated school, but he did better in his classes than anyone in our year besides Hermione. Draco claimed to not care about anything, and I’d believed him for years. Everyone believed him, really. 

Draco  _ cared _ , though. And when he cared about something, he cared more intensely than anyone I’d ever met. 

“Have you ever looked through my mind?”

Draco shook his head. “Not that you would be able to tell if I did, but no. Others…” Draco let out a soft snort. “Not you, though.”

“Why not?”

“I think, one of these days, all your questions are going to make me go mad,” Draco told me, and I couldn’t resist the snarky grin that spread across my face. “Because...well,  _ before _ , you know, I honestly had no interest in seeing inside  _ your _ head.” 

_ Rude _ .

“And then, once...everything, it felt…” he hesitated, scanning my face. “Wrong, I guess.”

Wrong? I narrowed my eyes as I thought. “But you didn’t have any issue with erasing my memory.”

“I told you I felt bad about that, didn’t I?” Draco responded. 

“Oh, see, that kind of got lost in between all the insults you kept throwing at me,” I said, making sure there was enough of a lilt in my voice that he knew I was joking. 

“Shut up.”

“No, I don’t think I-”

Draco grabbed my waist, pulling me towards him and pressing his lips to mine in a short, fiery kiss that seemed to ignite my body. His mouth was warm, making me melt into him a bit before he pulled back. 

“You’re insufferable, you know that? Now will you just listen?” 

I nodded, biting my lip as a blush crept up the back of my neck. I could get used to casual displays of affection from him. 

“I think it’s a good idea for you to know how to guard your mind,” Draco continued, stepping back but keeping his hand lightly on my waist which made it very hard to focus on his words. “I can’t be there to save you every time, especially not with how often you seem to run into trouble.”

“You don’t  _ save _ me every time-”

“You said you would listen,” Draco huffed. “I’m serious, though. I’d rather not have another situation like the one with Snape. You know too much about me for me to risk that.”

“Is that the only reason? To protect yourself and get rid of the inconvenience of rescuing me?” I might regret asking once I heard the answer, but I had to know. Was this him truly looking out only for himself, or was this some roundabout way of protecting me? 

Draco took a breath, as if considering if he should tell me. 

_ Please say no. Please say no _ .

Draco’s eyes darted away from mine as he said, “No, it isn’t.” The words seemed to stick in his mouth, like he was having a hard time getting them out. 

We were quite a pair when it came to confessing feelings, weren’t we?

“Then…”

Draco sighed again, a noise I was becoming incredibly accustomed to. “Do you really not know already? You’re not that daft.”

I glared at him. “I’m not daft at  _ all _ , you dickhead.”

“Apparently you are, if you can’t guess what other reason I could possibly have for wanting to teach you Occlumency.” 

I’d forgotten in his absence, somehow, what an entirely stubborn person Draco was. Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I stepped out of his touch, his hand falling to his side. Two could play at that damn game. “And apparently you can’t just fucking tell me why you want to teach me. What, are words really that hard for you?”

Draco walked towards me, backing me up until after two short steps, my back collided with the door again. An annoyed rage simmered in his eyes, making me shiver as he studied me. “You’re really going to make me fucking say it?”

I nodded, because I wanted to hear him say  _ why _ . I knew why, or at least I was hoping I knew why. But I wanted  _ him _ to say it. 

“Bloody fucking hell,” Draco muttered, shaking his head. “I can’t even begin to understand why I put up with you,” he said, but his hand came up to my face, his thumb brushing my lower lip as he said, in a quiet, almost secretive, voice:

“Because, Elaine, I am fucking terrified of losing you.”


	35. The Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello my lovely readers! i have a question for you all since school started up for me this week. normally i write ten(ish) pages every chapter, which is why it takes about a week in between each. would you guys rather shorter chapters and more frequent uploads, or longer chapters with still the same weekly schedule?

As I left Draco’s dorm, my mind chanted his words over and over again like a mantra. My hands were still shaking, my heart was still racing, even as I went to the Ravenclaw tower, barely watching where I was walking. There had been very few times where I had seen Draco act genuinely sincere, and even few times where I had seen him admit he was scared.

Actually, now that I thought about it, I had  _ never _ seen Draco anything less than suave, cocky, and incredibly proud. Even when Harry had nearly killed him, even when his dad had nearly killed him…

Even with our sullied past, I had no doubt that Draco had actually meant it. He  _ was _ terrified of losing me. And the thought of losing Draco? My heart lurched at the mere thought of it. 

It seemed every day that my feelings for Draco grew stronger, and I didn’t know how I was going to deal with it. 

It felt like I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, though. Every time Draco was  _ real  _ with me, I lost myself in the thrill of the moment, but I always began to spiral down into my doubts almost immediately after I left him. 

Things were...they were good, complicated, but still, good. Try as I might, I couldn’t silence the cynical voice in my head that continued to tell me that this wasn’t a smart choice, that I should get out before this boy shattered me. 

Frankly, I needed to talk to someone about it. I wanted to tell someone that he and I had just...god, just had  _ sex _ and I wanted to ask about the strange burn on his wrist and I wanted someone to get excited over his parting words with me. 

As I changed, my stomach grumbled, making me realize that I had missed dinner. It was almost dark outside, which meant that I would have to wait until breakfast to eat. 

It had been so fucking worth it though. 

Draco had looked  _ ethereal _ . There was truly no other word for the way his pale hair had plastered to his forehead, for the way his skin flushed as he fucked me…

I flopped down onto my bed, covering my face with my hands as happiness, brighter and stronger than I had felt in a while, flooded my body. Virginity was a social construct- Hermione had gone on about that enough for me to never forget it- but all the same, I don’t think it could’ve been anyone other than Draco for me. 

It wouldn’t have felt right, especially with the way even being near him made my head spin and all my sense abandon me. 

God, that boy was ruining me, but I was glad I was done fighting it at this point. What reason did I have to resist it? 

Besides, you know, the obvious direct path of danger it put me in. 

“Elaine!” Cho’s bright voice came from above me, causing me to uncover my face. “I was wondering where you were! Hermione said you were in Potions, but we didn’t see you at dinner.”

My face heated as I thought about the reason why my stomach was empty. “Ah, yeah. I was...actually, do you know if Hermione’s free? I need to talk to you two about something.”

Cho’s face fell a bit, but I shook my head. “Nothing bad, I promise. It’s actually...it’s a really good thing, but I need to talk to both of you about it.”

Cho grinned, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet. “Come on, we were just about to go to the library.”

Cho and I found Hermione sitting at one of the tables in the very back of the library, already surrounded by piles of books and parchment. Her curly hair was twisted back in a soft bun, and she had a smudge of ink across her nose. I laughed softly as I pointed it out to Cho, who pointed it out to Hermione as we sat. 

Rubbing the black off her skin, Hermione said, “Elaine, you missed dinner. Are you alright? I was worried. You just disappeared after Potions.”

Pulling back my hair, I sighed, letting a soft smile spread across my face. “I’m fine, yeah. Actually, I’m better than fine.”

“Alright, out with it!” Cho demanded, noticing the blush dusting my cheeks. 

“Remember that boy I was telling you about?”

Cho slapped a hand over her mouth and Hermione’s jaw dropped. “You didn’t!” 

Nodding, my smile grew as Cho and Hermione gaped at me. “Yeah, um, right after Potions. I didn’t plan it or anything. One thing led to another, and then…”

Cho let out a soft squeal. “How was it? He was good, right?”

“He was…” I started, feeling my face grow even warmer. “God, he was better than I thought was even possible.”

Hermione let out a quiet chuckle. “That good?”

I dipped my head in confirmation. “It was like...god, like he knew exactly what to do and where to touch me, and I just…” I let out a breath as my heart skipped at the memory. “I’m in trouble. This boy has me fucking enchanted or something, I swear.”

“It was your first time, wasn’t it?” Cho asked. 

“Yeah, and he...I can’t even describe it,” I told them. “He just  _ does _ something to me, you know?”

The two of them nodded; they each had boys that they had been chasing after for years. Cho and Hermione strangely probably understood the more mundane parts of my relationship with Draco better than anyone. 

“And I was afraid that it wouldn’t be as good as I imagined it, or that he wouldn’t be as good but, god, he  _ was _ ,” I finished, looking down at my hands that had been twisted in Draco’s hair barely an hour before. 

“Oh, I forgot,” Hermione muttered, digging into her bag and pulling out a sandwich. She handed it to me, my stomach growling at the sight of food. “Grabbed it for you at dinner. I know we’re not supposed to eat in the library, but I figured it’s okay this one time.”

I grabbed the food from her, unwrapping it quickly and taking a bite. Around the sandwich, I said, “You’re a lifesaver, Hermione. I was starving.”

Hermione shrugged, smiling at me. “No problem. But, Elaine, seriously, I am so happy for you. I know you don’t want to talk about who it is, but if he made your first time that amazing, he’s okay in my book.”

If only it were that simple. “Thanks, ‘Mione,” I replied, and I meant it. Not having to keep everything about Draco inside, where it built up and felt like thick fog suffocating my mind at times, felt so relieving. 

We spent a few hours studying at the library, but I didn’t remember anything I had skimmed over. I couldn’t stop thinking about the almost ouroboros-like burn branded into Draco’s otherwise unmarred skin. He got it while he had been at home, that much I was almost entirely certain about. 

And if he got it at home, that meant…

That meant it was somehow tied to Voldemort, didn’t it? That thought made my stomach sink. 

\-------

I hated it; god, I  _ hated _ it, but the only person I could think to ask about the burn I had seen on Draco’s wrist was Professor Slughorn. 

Snape might’ve been the best answer, but after him practically chomping at the bit to torture me, I strangley had no desire to spend more time with him than necessary. Besides, as far as he knew, Draco had Obliviated me, and asking about that mark would’ve given both of us away. 

I could’ve asked Hermione, but she was too smart not to connect it back to Draco even if she didn’t know now that he was the boy I had been talking about. Harry and I still weren’t speaking, and I couldn’t ask Ron because he would just tell Harry anyways. 

It was one of the few times I truly hated that I was Muggleborn- surely all the students who had grown up with magic and hearing stories about Voldemort and his cadre would know what it was right away. But I hadn’t, and I didn’t. 

And as hard as I had tried, I had been unable to move past it. 

Sure, maybe it wasn’t any of my business; that’s absolutely what Draco would tell me, probably with his lips curled into a snarl, but…

Fuck me, I cared about him too much to let it go. He would argue that if I really cared that much about him, I’d butt out and stop getting myself into things that I shouldn’t be getting into. 

Let Draco call me nosy, let him get angry at me, but I wanted to... god, maybe I couldn’t  _ help _ , but at least I could try and understand what he was going through. What someone might’ve forced him to be going through. 

So Slughorn it was. As I trudged to his office, remembering the path from the beginning of the year when he had found me crying in the hallway after Cho and I’s massive fight, I realized that nearly everything in my life had changed since that night. 

Hopefully, Slughorn’s willingness to help me hadn’t changed, so I knocked on the door, rapping my knuckles against the wood once, twice, then a third time. After a few moments, it swung open and Slughorn’s smiling face looked down at me.

“Ms. Adler! What a delightful surprise,” he exclaimed. “Come in, come in.”

I walked into his office and Slughorn shut the door behind us. I stopped in my tracks as I saw a head of black hair sitting at the couch in front of the fire. Harry turned around, about to speak until his eyes landed on me. 

_ Oh. _

“Oh, my apologies, Professor, I didn’t know you had company,” I said. “I can come back later-”

“Nonsense, my dear. Mr. Potter and I were just having a cup of tea. Would you like one?”

Nodding slightly, I went to sit down in an armchair by the fire that was furthest from Harry’s seat, picking at my hands anxiously as I felt his eyes follow me. I prayed that Slughorn couldn’t feel the immediate tension that filled the room as I sat, doing my best to ignore Harry’s gaze. 

Slughorn filled a porcelain tea cup with dark tea and handed it to me, setting milk and sugar on the coffee table in front of me. With a small word of thanks, I accepted the cup as Slughorn took a seat in his usual blue armchair. 

“So, to what do I owe this pleasant surprise, Ms. Adler?” Slughorn inquired as I stirred in my milk and sugar. 

“I had a question about...about something I saw in a book recently, Professor,” I admitted. 

Slughorn’s bushy brows raised slightly, and I could’ve sworn his eyes flickered to Harry momentarily before he urged me to continue. 

“And I...I didn’t quite know who to ask about it. Sometimes, because my parents are Muggles, you know, there are things that I’m not as well-versed in as other students here.”

“That’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Slughorn assured me. “Many of my brightest students are Muggleborn, but of course you know that. I would make the observation that asking for help when seeking knowledge is actually rather mature of you.”

“Thank you, sir,” I answered, the warmth of my tea seeping through the cup and into my palms. “I truly am sorry to bother you. Are you sure you don’t want me to come back? I’d hate to be interrupting anything.”

Honestly, I cared less about interrupting whatever Harry and he had been talking about and more about Harry being there. I didn’t really want him to hear what I had seen on Draco’s arm, even though I claimed I had found it in a book. Harry already suspected the worst of Draco; he would know instantly that I had seen it on Draco and he would likely go straight to Dumbledore with the information after he left Slughorn’s office. 

“I assure you, you’re not interrupting anything,” Slughorn promised. 

“Okay, good,” I said, though I felt the exact opposite. 

“What exactly did you see in a book that has you so troubled?” 

I took a sip of my tea, the herbal flavor tangy and welcoming. “It’s...I’m not sure what it is, only what it looks like. Are you familiar with the ouroboros?”

Slughorn nodded, and I pursed my lips. “It’s almost like that. But instead of one, there were two, and they were in a circle. The first snake seemed to be swallowing the second’s tail and vice versa with the second.”

I saw concern flash in Slughorn’s eyes before he looked at me. “That, my dear, would be the Shadow.”

“The Shadow?” Harry repeated, his first words since I arrived. 

Slughorn hesitated, looking between Harry and I a few times before continuing. “A sort of...precursor to the Dark Mark. Which book did you find this in, if I might ask?”

My stomach felt like it was full of lead as Slughorn confirmed my suspicions. Draco was going to...he was going to become a Death Eater. I had hoped that because it wasn’t the Dark Mark itself that it was something less serious, but it seemed I had been very wrong. 

“I-I don’t remember the name of it,” I stammered, setting down my cup. “It was lying open on a table in the library and I went to put it away when I saw it.”

A lie, a good one, but a lie. I hoped Slughorn believed me, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think Harry would. 

Slughorn furrowed his brow. “Ms. Adler, I would caution you not to look into this further. No good comes from anything that mark is associated with. There is enough danger present today, even here at Hogwarts, to keep all of us occupied.”

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

I needed fresh air, and I needed to be away from Harry’s prying eyes, so I quickly excused myself, thanking Slughorn for the tea before leaving. I kept my steps calm, steady, until I shut the door to his office behind me, but once I was separated from them, my knees began to shake. Quickening my pace, I started down the hall, wanting to get out of the stone confines of the castle and out into the open, fresh air of the bitter late winter. 

The weight of what Slughorn had told me felt like it was an elephant sitting on my chest, crushing my lungs and making it hard to breath. I had known Draco was working for, or with, Voldemort; that wasn’t news to me. I had heard Snape admit as much. I had heard Draco admit as much. 

And everyone knew Lucius was, or had been at one point, a Death Eater. Draco was a Pureblood, and the Malfoys had pledged their allegiance to the Dark Lord during the first war. 

None of that was a surprise, and I should’ve known that at some point, Draco would officially join their ranks. 

I should’ve known, but I hadn’t let myself embrace it. I hadn’t wanted that added bit of difficulty to an already incredibly hard situation. Because Draco becoming a Death Eater meant that not only were we on different sides of thinking, but on different sides of a war. 

A war that was already well underway, even if most of the Wizarding world was refusing to acknowledge it. 

And god, it  _ hurt _ . It hurt to think of Draco slipping into that darkness, because that meant he was slipping away from me. I felt like a petulant child to think it, but it felt so fucking unfair. He and I had just...we had  _ just _ started something, something that was confusing and hurtful at times, but something that also was so addicting, so new and  _ right _ . I didn’t want it to be over before it had really even started. 

The world, this  _ war _ was so much bigger than me, and I knew that. But that didn’t mean that I didn’t want to be selfish and that I wanted just a bit more time with Draco before it all went to hell. 

“Elaine!” 

I heard Harry shouting behind me, but I ignored him, turning the corner quickly and walking even faster. I had to get away, I had to get away, I had--

“Elaine! I know you can hear me,” Harry called out, and I heard his footsteps quicken into a run as he tried to catch up with me. “Don’t ignore me! I just want to-”

“You just want to what?” I snapped, whirling around to face him. Harry stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the shining tears that were trailing down my cheeks. “You want to accuse me of something? You want to call me names, tell me how little you care about me? Because that’s all I heard from you before we stopped talking.”

Harry sighed, running his hands through his hair. “Elaine, calm down. I just want to talk, that’s all.”

I huffed, but kept my mouth closed, and Harry continued. “You...looking into this kind of stuff isn’t safe.”

“Isn’t this literally all you do?” 

Harry let out a short, curt laugh. “Fair enough, but I’m already in this. You aren’t. There’s no point in endangering yourself when you don’t have to. I know you didn’t see that symbol in a book, either. I came to Slughorn with the same bullshit about H-about something earlier this year.”

“I did see it in a book,” I countered, though a small part of me found some humor in the fact that Harry and I had come up with the same lie.

“No, you didn’t,” Harry replied. “Hermione and I have scoured the library over and over again for any information on Voldemort, on anything surrounding him, and not once have we ever found something like that.”

I shrugged, giving him an uncaring look. “Maybe you missed it, then. I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Elaine, I’m glad you think this is something you can joke about, but get real, alright? By asking about these things, by even  _ thinking _ of them, you’re making yourself a target.”

I was, and I knew that. I didn’t need Harry to tell me that, not in the slightest. “And you’re not? What, no one else is allowed to want to help? No one else can do what you’re doing because you’re the bloody Chosen One?”

“That’s not what this is about, and you know that, Elaine. But yeah, okay, that’s exactly it. Everyone else has a  _ choice _ to be involved in this. I don’t. Why would you want to throw yourself into this?”

He didn’t say it, but words hung unspoken in the air.  _ Why would you want to throw yourself into this when you’ve seen what it’s done to me _ ?

“Does that matter? You don’t ask Ron and Hermione that, I’d wager,” I told him. “You’re not the only person who has something at stake here, Harry.”

“Oh, really? What exactly do you have at risk here?”

I held back the answer that danced at the tip of my tongue:  _ Because the boy I’m in love with is in danger, and I could do something to help him. _

Instead, I shook my head. “Right, because my parents weren’t killed by Voldemort, I’m not allowed to want to do something to fight back against him. You don’t have a fucking monopoly on sacrifice or on fighting against Voldemort, you know.”

“Wow, that’s news to me,” Harry deadpanned, causing me to roll my eyes. “I thought I was doing this because I wanted to. It never occured to me that other people could help.”

“You know what?” I snapped, nearly at the end of my proverbial rope. “It seems like you’re still insistent on being nothing but a dick to me, so I think this conversation needs to be done.”

Harry sighed, cracking his knuckles like he did when he was nervous. “Elaine, I’m sorry. Just...let’s talk about this. We might be able to help each other.”

I took a moment to respond, to think. If anyone could help me other than Slughorn, it would be Harry, but...but that might put Draco directly at risk. That would defeat the whole point of trying to help him, wouldn’t it? 

But I didn’t think Slughorn was going to answer any more questions from me about the Shadow. “Alright, fine.”

To curb my own curiosity.  _ For Draco _ . 

“Let’s go outside,” Harry suggested, so I continued my course from earlier, walking out of the castle and down to the lake. 

The grounds were mostly empty, the cold air driving everyone inside to huddle by fireplaces instead of enduring the frigid wind whipping through my hair. The cold helped me think, though. Helped me sort through my thoughts, made me focus. 

As we walked down the grassy hill, Harry asked, almost hesitantly, “Why didn’t you come to me for help in the first place? Why did you ask Slughorn?”

I nearly scoffed, but remembered we were trying, at least, to be civil. “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d bother helping me. And, frankly, I’m still upset at you.”

Better to be honest with him up front, instead of pretending like seeing him still didn’t make anger bloom in my chest. I  _ was _ still upset at him. I could barely look at him or Ginny without feeling like my stomach had turned to lead. 

It was one of my fatal flaws, I think. Holding grudges was as easy as breathing, but getting over them? You might as well ask me to perform heart surgery for all the success I would have. 

That was...that was probably a big part of why the Sorting Hat had wanted me in Slytherin. That trait would’ve made me fit right in. 

Harry winced slightly. “I guess I deserve that. You deserve an apology. What I did was...it wasn’t okay, and I’m sorry that I was such a massive asshole to you.”

“Oh,” I responded softly. I couldn’t tell if I wanted to run or if I wanted to hear him out. He was approaching territory that I wasn’t sure I was ready to confront yet, but…

But some part of me, some cracked, torn part of me, needed to hear him out. 

“And,” Harry said as we sat down on the grass, “I’m sorry that I didn’t think about how it would make you feel. I did...I did genuinely have feelings for you, but I know that doesn’t really matter much. It wasn’t on purpose, you know,” Harry told me. 

I nodded. 

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you. Any of the times that I hurt you. I never…” Harry let out a breath. “I never wanted things to go this way between us. I don’t even know what came over me, really. You know how much I care about you, and I…”

The emotion that was present in Harry’s voice shocked me. “And I will never forgive myself for not being there for you after Christmas and everything that happened with your father. Even though I was angry at you, I should’ve been there for you,” Harry confessed, his voice cracking slightly. 

My heart contracted at how genuinely upset and angry at himself Harry sounded. I scooted next to him, casting a warming charm over us as I rested my head on his shoulder. “I’ll be honest, going through that without you...it was hard, Harry. It was...god, it was so hard,” I admitted, willing myself not to give in to the emotion rising in my throat. “I needed you there.”

Harry wrapped his arm around me, pulling me in for a tight hug. “I’m so, so, sorry, Elaine. I’ve been a shit friend and I was a shit boyfriend and I know that isn’t enough for you to be able to forgive me and honestly, I haven’t done anything to even deserve your forgiveness.”

I leaned into his embrace, my nose itching with the whisper of tears as I realized how much I had missed him. “It’s...it’s not okay now, but it will be,” I told him.

Harry let out a soft laugh as tears crowded his throat. “You know, you’re too good for this. For- for everything life has thrown at you. For everything I’ve thrown at you this year.”

Biting my cheek to hold in my tears, I nodded. “You are, too.” 

Pulling away from me slightly, Harry said, “So. Tell about this mark you saw.”


	36. Timing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello my lovely readers i hope all is well! enjoy this chapter that i wrote all today because i couldnt wait to get it out <3

I thought for a moment, chewing on my cheek as I decided how to go about this. My trust in Harry was not fully restored, even if he’d apologized, and my trust in him certainly didn’t go far enough to expose everything. 

“I will, but I have a few conditions,” I began, ignoring the way Harry’s eyebrows retreated into his hairline. “First, you can’t ask about where I saw the mark. I told you I saw it in a book and you can believe me or not, but that’s where I saw it. Secondly, as much as I appreciate your apology, getting over some of the things you said to me is going to take time. Frankly, I don’t know if I trust you enough to not insult me, so if you do, even _once_ , that’s it. I’m not giving you another chance.”

“Deal,” Harry said as soon as I’d stopped talking. “As long as you promise not to ask where I found what I was talking to Slughorn about.”

“Deal.” 

Harry nodded, content with our arrangement. “It was...I mean, you heard me telling Slughorn what it looked like. Have you ever heard of the Shadow? I’d barely heard of the Dark Mark at all until our fourth year.”

“No, honestly, I haven’t. I’ve been in the dark almost as much as you about a lot of stuff concerning Voldemort since I grew up with the Dursleys. I feel like everyone who grew up with magical parents knows so much about all that,” Harry said. 

I sighed. “I know how you feel. I went to Slughorn because I was too embarrassed to ask anyone else besides Ron and Hermione, and I didn’t want to ask them because…”

“Because they would’ve told me,” Harry finished. 

“Yeah. That,” I confirmed. “Sorry.”

Harry waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I get it. So...so it’s what, a stepping stone to the Dark Mark?”

“Maybe?” I answered, not entirely sure. “Maybe it’s an initiation thing? Like if you get the Shadow and prove yourself worthy, then you get the Dark Mark?”

There was really nothing else it could be, but I wanted it to be _anything_ besides that. 

“Right, that would make sense,” Harry mused. “I just wonder why I’ve never heard of it before.”

“Harry,” I started a bit uneasily. “How bad-I mean, are the Death Eaters really as terrible as everyone says? I know that’s a stupid question, but no one ever really talks about them and I grew up even more isolated from magic than you.”

Harry flinched slightly at my question and I immediately felt remorse. “I’m sorry, Harry. God, what a stupid-”

“No, it’s okay,” he insisted, but he didn’t look like it was. “They are...they’re awful, Elaine. They...I mean, you know they killed my parents,” Harry said softly. “They killed Sirius, too. And my grandfather. And so many other people.”

“Are...have any of them ever…”

“Defected? Snape did,” Harry said, and I had to fight my body to keep my reaction hidden. 

_No, he didn’t_ , I wanted to scream. Even if he were playing double agent, anyone would have a hard time convincing me that his true alliance didn’t lie with the Dark Lord. 

“Sirius’ brother...there’s rumors,” Harry admitted. “I...I’ve discovered a lot about him while I’ve been...researching this year.”

“But no one else?”

Harry shook his head. “Not truly, no. After the first war, people claimed they were under the Imperius Curse or something similar, but...I don’t believe them for a moment. Besides, anyone who _wanted_ to defect would likely be killed before they even got the chance.” 

“Oh,” I responded quietly. So Draco had less of a chance to escape than I thought. 

If he even wanted to, that is. And he seemed pretty deadset that this was the path his life was meant to follow. I hated the sadness that squeezed my throat. Draco had done bad things, most of them to me, and maybe it was stupid or naive, but I truly believed he still had good in him. 

He still deserved redemption. He still deserved to be saved. 

“Elaine,” Harry said gently. “You- and don’t get angry, please- you shouldn’t be looking into this stuff. It’ll draw attention to you, attention from bad, bad people. It isn’t safe to even think about learning more about it.”

I opened my mouth, but Harry stopped me. “I know this year has been unkind to both of us. _I’ve_ been unkind to you. But I don’t…” Harry stopped, swallowing roughly. “I can’t lose you, okay? Do you know that? I cannot lose another person I consider family.”

Tears pricked my eyes once more as sorrow overwhelmed me. “Harry, you aren’t going to lose me.”

“I could,” Harry said shortly. “Practically everyone else has been taken from me, why not you, too? You’re the only person who truly understands what life with the Dursleys is like. Some days, even when we were apart and fighting and I was so angry at you, I just wanted to talk to you, even for a moment.”

I had felt the same, and I understood why. Harry and I, though it was due to an unfortunate circumstance, shared much more than our other friends. “I know, I get it,” I told him. “But I can’t just sit by and watch as the world falls to shit when there’s even the smallest chance that I could help save it or help fix it. I know you understand that, too, so don’t even think about telling me otherwise, Potter.”

Harry shot a small grin my way. “You know me too well, Adler.” His grin faded quickly as he said, “But I’m still scared. I don’t want you to put yourself at risk, especially if…”

“If what?”

“If it isn’t worth it,” Harry revealed. 

Without hesitation, I replied firmly, “It is worth it.”

Because Draco was, and I was beginning to suspect that he always would be to me. 

\-------

After wrapping up our conversation and catching up briefly about what we’d missed during our time apart, Harry and I said goodbye as he went to practice and I made my way to the library. The world may have been going to hell in a handbasket, but it would take more than that to shake my study habits from me. 

The library was scattered with students, their noses stuck in various books or smudged with ink as they wrote, but the only thing my eyes could concentrate on was the head of blonde hair sitting at one of the tables in the very back. Draco’s spot, the one I’d seen him in so often, was nearest to the massive windows that shed yards of golden sunlight onto the library. 

His blond hair seemed to glow in the light, and though I shouldn’t have, I took a moment to drink in his elegance. I so rarely had any time to truly appreciate how beautiful Draco really was without being caught or snapped at by him. 

The curve of his shoulders as he slumped, the gentle breath he let out to blow away a strand of hair dipping low into his face, was more familiar to me now that my own movements. Draco...he was truly a sight to behold, and he was mine. 

Was he mine? 

I wanted him to be. 

I didn’t know if I should approach him or not. It was still such a mess, trying to decipher where I stood with him. Alone, just the two of us, I knew what I meant to him. I knew where I could be. But around others, I was never sure. Draco, even as he slowly became one of the most important people in my life, was still an enigma to me. 

That was part of the intrigue, though, wasn’t it? 

I continued walking towards the back of the library, desperate to find some reason to speak to him before I got to his spot. He seemed consumed by whatever text was propped open in front of him, his pale nose wrinkled with concentration. 

A hand tapped my shoulder, causing me to turn as I wound through tables just a few metres away from Draco. “Elaine,” Luna’s dreamy voice said. “How lovely to see you.”

I couldn’t help the smile that burst across my face. “Luna! It feels like ages since I’ve seen you.”

“Funny, isn’t it? We share a dorm, but you’ve been so lost in your own world that you hardly talk to any of us,” Luna mused. 

My eyes darted to Draco, then back to his distant relative. “I know, I’m sorry for that. It’s been...a hard year,” I admitted. 

Luna smiled gently at me. “It has for you, more than most. I can’t imagine how many Nargles have been flying around you. It must feel like your brain is always foggy,” Luna said. “You know the best cure for Nargles?”

“What would that be?”

Luna gestured to Draco, who was still oblivious to the conversation happening not far from his seat. “Sometimes, it’s best to let someone else deal with them. Take away that stress you always carry in your shoulders.”

“What- I-”

“It’s okay, Elaine,” Luna assured you. “I know. My mother was a Seer. It runs in the family, did you know that? It’s easy to see this sort of thing. It’s like a line between the two of you, like a little thread. Harry and Ginny have the same thing. Ron and Hermione, too.”

I felt my heart stutter at Luna’s words. “A thread?”

Luna nodded, her pale hair rippling softly. “A connection. Yours is different than most, though.”

“Different how?” I asked, finding it hard to chide myself for my eagerness. 

“Most connections are...straight, with maybe a few waves,” Luna informed me, her radish earrings swinging as she shrugged. “Yours is all tangled. Must be giving you quite a hard time, isn’t it?”

A hard time, indeed. “How- I mean,-”

“Time,” Luna said simply, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. “It’ll stop being so messy with time.”

With a whimsical smile, Luna pulled me in for a short hug before saying, “Lovely to see you, Elaine. Don’t let those Nargles in anymore. They’re such pests.”

I stood, feeling rather dumbfounded, as Luna left, her curly hair flowing behind her as she moved. Luna had her moments where I wanted to roll my eyes at her ridiculousness, but this? 

This was unlike anything she’d ever said to me. I hated it, but I was partially inclined to believe her solely because she knew there was something between Draco and I. No one else did, because I hadn’t uttered a word to anyone, and as much as Draco had changed, he was still Draco. He would never tell anyone outright about us. 

Time would untangle our thread, Luna had said. But did we really have much time left? 

Suddenly, the large, open library seemed nothing more than a broom closet, as if the walls were closing in on me. My chest felt heavy, _tight_ , and my stomach sunk as I watched Draco work. His sleeve had slipped up, revealing that still-red burn pressed into his flesh. 

No, we certainly did not have much time left.

Turning quickly, I escaped the library as hurriedly as I could without Madam Pince reprimanding me, needing to get away from--

From everything, but mostly from Draco. From the reminder that my life, my relationship with him had an expiration date as long as that mark remained on that skin. As long as Voldemort was alive. Not for the first time, I cursed myself. 

For letting it get this far, for letting myself fall for Draco. For letting myself get hurt. It wasn’t that I regretted Draco. I could never regret anything about him, and I had meant that when I said as much to him. 

I regretted that Draco was Draco and that I was myself and that there wasn’t a future that I could see where we could be together. 

Needing Draco was like a burning underneath my skin, one that was only satiated by _him_ , but I couldn’t have him forever, could I? I could barely have him now. 

My feet had been guiding me without direction, but as soon as I paused, I knew where I was. The painting that hung across from the seemingly empty expanse of wall was the same as it had been when I’d first found Draco, when I’d gone here after Christmas, when I’d saved Draco’s life from Harry’s violent outburst. 

And it seemed that Draco had known where I was going to go, too. His face was unreadable, but his chest was heaving a bit as if he had been rushing somewhere. 

Rushing after _me_ , I realized. If I had been in a better, less frantic state, I would’ve been flattered.

I hadn’t even realized he’d noticed I’d been in the library at all. 

I felt my chest seize once more, and I had the faint thought in the back of my mind that I was likely having a panic attack, much like the one Hermione had had fifth year right before O.W.L.s. Draco’s grey eyes narrowed as I squeezed my own shut, as if I could block out the anxiety that was pressing down on me. 

It wasn’t working, though. My hands were shaking, my breath was rattling in my lungs, and Draco was just _standing_ there and I couldn’t be near him right now, not when it wouldn’t be long before he left me entirely. 

“Go away,” I told him shakily, trying to force as much conviction into my words as I could.

Draco, the stubborn bastard, shook his head. 

“Go away,” I repeated, this time with more desperation. 

“No,” Draco answered shortly. “Not when you look like you’re going to pass out.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted, even as my chest ached and every noise, every sensation felt like too much. “Go, please.”

Draco merely shook his head again, mumbling something to himself as he neared me. I gritted my jaw, willing myself not to reach out and collapse in his arms. “Elaine, let’s get you sitting down and then we can talk about why you seem like you’re going to hyperventilate until you make yourself pass out.”

A scraping sound came from the empty wall across from us as the Room of Requirement revealed itself to us. Draco motioned me to follow him, and when I stood my ground, he sighed exasperatedly and grabbed my wrist, tugging me after him. 

He pushed the door open, revealing _his_ room, the one with the piano and the fireplace and the books and the cabinet that I barely had energy left to worry about. 

Guiding me to a soft armchair that rested in a corner near the fireplace, Draco sat me down, looking at me with a concerned expression. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he said. 

I kept my mouth closed, unable to focus on words as I felt my breath quicken to a pace that concerned even me. Draco summoned a glass of water, forcing it into my hand and telling me to drink. I took the glass with a shaking hand, and as his fingers brushed mine, I felt the wave of panic crash over me once more. 

I stood up quickly, causing the water to slosh over my clothes. “No, no, I-”

Draco took the glass from my hand, setting it aside, before wrapping me in a hug so tight that I swore my ribs were going to break. 

I froze as it dawned on me that this was the first time Draco had ever hugged me. Without thinking, my arms flew to wrap around his torso, gripping him almost as tightly as he was holding me. His smell, the one that had been my undoing more times than I wanted to admit, enveloped me as I let him hold me. 

I didn’t let anyone hold me, not really. On rare occasions, Harry had. Hermione and Cho maybe once or twice, but no one else. I normally didn’t care for it, but with Draco, it felt different. 

It wasn’t like he was trying to console me or that he pitied me. It was like he was helping me hold myself together even as I was trying my best to break apart. 

He was _warm_ , solid, and I held onto him as if I’d never get the chance to do so again. I wanted to memorize every moment of this hug, even as the fog of panic still shadowed my mind, because I cherished this. 

Because there was nothing I cherished more than Draco. Than moments like this with him, where nothing existed outside of him and I.

My breath slowed to a rate that no longer had my chest burning, and I could feel my mind settling into a calm stream instead of a roaring river. Still, I held onto Draco, and he held onto me as I picked myself up and let him put the pieces back together. 

A laugh bubbled up in my throat as I felt the warm presence of drying tears on my face. Draco pulled back, his face riddled with concern as he looked at me like I was insane. 

“You...just hugged me,” I said incredulously, my words muffled as my face pressed into his chest.

“Very astute observation, Adler,” Draco said. “And that’s funny because?”

“Because,” I laughed. “We’ve had sex, but that was the first time you’ve ever hugged me. We had _sex_ before you hugged me.”

Draco rolled his eyes, but I could’ve sworn a grin was lurking behind the annoyed line his mouth was pressed in. “Now that you’re not on the verge of having a breakdown, will you please tell me why you were acting so strangely? Unless you _want_ me to take you to Madam Pomfrey and make sure you haven’t gone mental.”

  
  


I stepped back from him then, immediately regretting it as soon as his arms dropped from me. “I haven’t gone _mental_ ,” I retorted. “It’s called a panic attack. Haven’t you heard of that?”

Draco shrugged. “I’ve had a few in my day.”

“Oh,” I responded, with less fire than before. 

“Why were you panicking?” Draco asked, quickly shifting away from his answer. “Let me guess, bad grade on a test?”

I knew that this was Draco’s own odd way of diffusing tension and getting me to relax, but it still irked me. “I don’t get bad grades,” I objected. 

“Then what?” 

I couldn’t tell him I’d been so scared about the fact that I was inevitably going to lose him, could I? Surely, he would make fun of me for it. 

Wouldn’t he?

Draco grabbed my chin gently, making me look up at him. “Elaine, tell me, or I’ll find some Veritaserum and make you tell me.”

I knew by the look of conviction in his eyes that he was not joking at all. I had no inclination to be under the terrible influence of that vile potion, but I could barely get my thoughts straight enough to figure out what I wanted to say. 

I bit my lip, but Draco used his thumb to tug it from between my teeth. “You can’t keep secrets from me for long. You know that.”

He was right, I thought to myself with no small amount of annoyance. “You...please don’t make fun of me, okay?”

The smallest flicker of hurt flashed in Draco’s silver eyes as he nodded. “I would never.”

I raised my eyebrows at him and he amended his statement. “I would never in this particular moment,” Draco acquiesced, which made a small flash of amusement ripple through me, cutting at the anxious cloud inside of me. 

“I saw you in the library,” I began, making no effort to remove his hand from my face. His touch was steadying, grounding, and I needed that right now. 

“And Luna came up to me, and told me that her mom was a Seer, though you probably knew that,” I said, causing Draco to nod. “She said that you and I...that we’re connected with some sort of... _thread_ that we can’t see.”

“And you panicked because Luna told you we have a bond?” Draco asked incredulously. “You wound me, Elaine.”

“No, you git,” I snapped. “Let me finish. She told me we have a thread- or bond, whatever- and then…”

_Now, the hard part_ . What could I say? _And then I proceeded to panic so much I couldn’t breathe because I can’t stand the thought that I’m going to lose you?_

“And then?” Draco encouraged. 

“And then,” I repeated, “I...realized that...you and I have an expiration date. That this…” I paused, letting myself drown in the feeling of his hand on my skin. “This isn’t...it can’t be the endgame, you know? It isn’t...there isn’t a future where we last.”

Draco suddenly stepped away from me entirely, making my mind call out for his touch as he pulled his hand back. “We have an expiration date?” He asked coldly.

_Angrily_.

“Don’t we?” I asked. “Your father would likely just as soon kill me as he would let me even enter your house, let alone accept that I’m dating you. You...you’re going down a path, Draco, and I…”

Tears pricked my eyes, and instead of holding them back like I always did, I let them fall as I looked at the boy that I was so in love with it _hurt_. “I can’t follow you.”

Draco didn’t say anything, but I wasn’t done, because words began pouring out of my mouth. “It _hurts_ , Draco. Fuck, I-I want to follow you. I don’t care where it is. I want to be with you. I-I somehow can’t imagine a world where you aren’t a constant pain in my ass and I really can’t imagine a world where I don’t..fuck,” I swore, my words catching on a sob that ripped out of my chest. “Where I can’t remember what it feels like to kiss you. We don’t... _I_ don’t fit with you. I want to, Draco,” I whispered. 

“I want to fit with you. I want the confusion and the anger and the hurt and the late nights and the danger and the feeling I get when you touch me like I’ve been hit by lightning,” I babbled. “But-but I don’t. And it _hurts_ . It hurts, because,” another sob, one that took longer to pull back in, “because I know that this is going to end. I know that you’re going to leave me, even though there’s nothing really to leave in the first place since I don’t even know _what_ we are.”

I took a shuddering breath, figuring I might as well let it all out while I was here. “I fucking love you, Draco, and the thought of losing you, because I know I’m going to, makes me feel like my heart is being torn from my chest and ripped apart, bit by bit.” 

Looking up at Draco, I saw he was opening his mouth right as the heavy, dark door to the Vanishing Cabinet swung open, revealing a witch who smiled at Draco with yellowed, broken teeth. Draco subtly stepped in front of me, as if he could hide me from the woman’s dark eyes. 

“Nephew,” Bellatrix Lestrange drawled. “How delightful to see you. I must say, you did one hell of a job on this cabinet.”

Stepping out of the cabinet, Bellatrix’s eyes landed on me, causing a shudder to tear through my body. “And who might this little witch be?”

She noted the way Draco was standing slightly in front of me and the stupid tears I’d let loose that were still wet on my face. With a grin that screamed evil, she clapped her hands, and even while doing such a childish action, I couldn’t help the fear that filled me. 

“Oh, I know, I know,” Bellatrix crooned. “This is the little Mudblood bitch Snape caught spying on him!”

My stomach dropped as she recognized me, and Draco’s hand twitched towards his pocket where his wand was tucked. Bellatrix noted the movement and narrowed her eyes, her wild hair falling in her eyes as she glared at me. “I think the Dark Lord would be very pleased indeed if I were to bring her to him, don’t you think, Draco?”


	37. One Last Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay first off i loved the reactions to last chapters ending so many of you were so shocked lol secondly! i wrote this entire chapter in less than a day because ive been home sick so apologies if its less than great! hope you all enjoy<3

I had felt more fear over the course of my sixth year than I had felt in the previous years of Hogwarts combined, but I’d never felt fear quite like this. I felt frozen, like even my very blood had stopped thrumming through my veins, as Bellatrix strode towards Draco and I. 

My heart was pounding so hard it hurt, my hands were shaking, and my knees felt like jelly. Bellatrix’s eyes were practically black, they were so dark, and her skin was pale, making the bruises underneath her eyes stand out like a neon sign. Her teeth were crooked, yellow, as if she’d been a smoker for years on end, and her nails were cracked and sharp. 

And of course, on her arm, tattooed in dark ink, was the Dark Mark. 

I was trying to think of what to do, but the terror that was pounding in my chest was making it impossible to think. There was no way I could take on Bellatrix by myself, and even with Draco, we’d likely end up dead sooner than we’d end up victorious. Draco hadn’t answered his...his _cousin_ , apparently, and I was hoping that she hadn’t heard what I had told Draco right before she appeared. 

Draco was already in danger of being labeled as a traitor and as a failure, and I was certain that even being told by someone like me that he was loved was one step closer to that. If she had heard, Bellatrix didn’t say anything. Instead, she cocked her head at her cousin, her pile of messy hair falling loosely around her gaunt face. 

“Come, nephew. You know the Dark Lord doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” she scolded. “Grab the girl, and we’ll return to the manor. Our plans can wait a few days, I’m sure. Oh, how my lord is going to reward me!” Bellatrix said joyously. 

Bellatrix turned, heading towards the cabinet. I longed for Draco just to _look_ at me, so I could at least feel slightly comforted, but all he did was grab my hand and pull me forward. He squeezed it tightly for a moment, as if he were telling me he was there. 

It helped, but not nearly enough. I didn’t...I didn’t feel betrayed. What was he going to do, directly defy someone who worked so closely with Voldemort? I wouldn’t have expected him to, no matter what our relationship was. That would’ve sealed our fate quicker than I could’ve blinked. 

No, he had to obey, and I had to go along with him. We’d...we’d figure something out. 

Right? 

Draco shut the cabinet door behind me, immersing us in suffocating darkness. I waited to feel something, but it just felt like we were standing in a wardrobe for a few moments before Draco muttered something and opened the door once more. 

We weren’t in the Room of Requirement anymore, though. Draco pushed me out in front of him, making me step out into the dimly lit, faintly musty-smelling shop that we had appeared in. The shelves were lined with faerie skulls and wicked-looking weapons and cards drenched in dried blood and practically every other bit of dark magic or cursed item you could think of. 

I decided rather quickly I didn’t care much for this shop. 

I had no idea where we were, but Draco and Bellatrix clearly did. The shop owner dipped his head to them reverently before disappearing to the back room, leaving the three of us alone. 

“Draco, you know how to Apparate, yes?” Bellatrix asked. 

Draco nodded, much to my surprise. That was magic we weren’t supposed to learn until our seventh year, if we learned it at all. 

“You take the girl, then. I’d rather not risk splinching myself for a Mudblood,” Bellatrix sneered, taunting me. “See you at the manor, dear cousin,” Bellatrix called out as she Disapparated. 

The moment she was gone, my shoulders sagged as I let my fear wrap around me. I took a shuddering breath, one that I was trying to keep steady, but my chest was seizing with anxiety as I realized that in a few short minutes, I was going to be face to face with Voldemort. 

I could very well not live to see the end of the day. In fact, it was more likely than not that I wouldn’t make it out of the manor, wherever that was, alive. 

Draco wasn’t oblivious to my state, but he kept a stony demeanor as he turned me towards him. “We have to go soon, or they’ll get suspicious, but I’m going to get you out of this okay? I’m going to-you’ll be okay, alright?” 

His words, meant to be comforting, only made me more afraid. “Don’t lie to me, please,” I told him. “I’m not stupid. I can take a good guess of how this is going to go.”

“I’m not lying,” Draco shot back, and the firmness of his words shocked me. “You-I know how this has been. I know how I’ve been, but this...I told you I drew the line at people hurting you, didn’t I?”

I nodded, faintly remembering that conversation that seemed like forever ago. 

“And I am _not_ a liar, Elaine Adler. This...bloody hell, I don’t--but it’s going to be fine, alright? It has to be.”

I had a strange feeling he was saying this to comfort himself as much as he was saying it to comfort me. I wanted so badly to believe him, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew, at least slightly, what I was about to walk into. 

There was no way I could fool myself, but for Draco’s sake, so that he could keep calm and not give himself away, I smiled and said, “Okay.”

\-------

Draco and I landed on the ground with a soft cry as pain shot up my arm. I looked down to see a gash running down from my shoulder nearly to my elbow, blood already soaking my top. Draco’s face paled as he realized he’d splinched me, but we had to keep moving, because they were waiting for us. 

I was fine to walk, so Draco and I headed up the long path that led to the enormous mansion in front of us. The road was lined with hedges twice as tall as I was, and the manor was dark, making me a bit queasy. 

That also could’ve been due to the blood I was losing. 

I figured, all things considered, that dying from blood loss was probably my best bet at this point. It was a bit dramatic, yes, but still. The wound likely wasn’t _that_ bad, but my mind was reeling and it was difficult to think properly between the pain and the terror that were battling within me. 

An inscription that was carved over the massive mahogany doors read, “Malfoy Manor” and beneath it, in curling script, _Sanctimonia Vincet Semper_. 

“Purity will always conquer,” Draco muttered quietly to me. “Family motto.”

I didn’t say anything, but it felt like I’d swallowed lead. No wonder Draco was the way he was, with a family motto like that. 

And with a house like this, too, because my jaw nearly dropped as we entered the enormous manor. Above us was a crystal chandelier that sparkled even low lighting, and the rug beneath our feet must’ve been more expensive than everything I owned combined. Every piece of furniture matched, every window was spotless as they opened up to the spiraling garden maze beyond them. 

I heard a _crack_ from my left, and looked over to see a wrinkly little creature hobbling towards us. Draco’s nose wrinkled with disgust as he looked down. 

“Kreacher, what are you doing here?” 

Kreacher bowed his head, but kept his eyes on me. “Mistress Bellatrix brought Kreacher to the Malfoys to help the Dark Lord, Master Draco. Kreacher is very pleased to help, but Kreacher is wondering what that Mud-”

“Kreacher,” Draco snapped, making Kreacher shut up. “Where are they?”

“Dining room, Master Draco. Kreacher will take you...make sure the girl does not touch anything...not with those dirty hands of hers…” Kreacher mumbled as he led Draco and I from the black and white tiled foyer through a hallway lined with portraits. 

I had never seen a house-elf before, but I didn’t think I was much of a fan. Kreacher seemed entirely unpleasant, and I didn’t see the point of keeping such aggravating, rude company. Perhaps Hermione had been right with her whole S.P.E.W. venture. Why anyone would want a thing like Kreacher was beyond me. 

He was probably much nicer to Purebloods, though. 

Each of them peered at me like I was no better than a walking pile of dung, but I avoided their gazes, keeping my own eyes forward. I caught a couple of the names as I walked, and most of them had Draco’s last name. 

_Ah, a nice little family shrine_ , I thought. How pleasant. 

I was trying my best to keep my breathing normal and my hands steady, but once we entered the dining room, which was even bigger than the foyer, it was a nearly impossible task. Draco stepped aside, showing me to the room and the whispering commenced. 

I scanned the people sitting at the long, black table in the middle of the room. There were Draco’s parents, the Parkinsons, the Crabbes and Goyles, the Knotts and one or two wizards I didn’t recognize. On either side of the head of the table, Bellatrix and Snape sat looking at us, the former with utter glee, and the latter with entire boredom. 

Unfortunately, none of the witches and wizards present came as a shock to me. Even though I wasn’t well-versed in Pureblood politics, their children had spent their years at Hogwarts closely interacting with Draco. 

And at the head of the table was Voldemort himself, his skin whiter than Draco’s hair and his teeth more foul than Bellatrix’s. I could feel the dark presence of his magic lingering in the air like a bad smell, and it made my stomach twist unpleasantly. From what Draco had said, it seemed likely that Voldemort was a Legilimens, and I wished desperately Draco had had the idea of teaching me Occlumency weeks ago. 

I felt no intrusion on my mind, but even without it, it felt like Voldemort was reading everything about me as he took me in, gushing wound and all. I nearly had to stifle a snort that I was dripping my supposedly dirty blood all over the Malfoy’s pristine floors, but it occurred to me that perhaps this was not the best moment to do so. 

“Ah,” Voldemort began, and his voice was like steel scraping bone, making my skin crawl as I met his gaze. “So this is the Mudblood that has been causing so much trouble at Dumbledore’s beloved school. Friend of the boy, I’m assuming?”

Snape shook his head stiffly. “Not of Draco, no. But of Potter? Yes, my lord.”

Well, there was one small relief. Snape had somehow bought Draco’s act in his office not so long ago. Not that that was going to do much good now, though. 

“Is that so?” Voldemort mused, scratching the massive snake that was curled next to his chair. “Well, well. What a treat for us, no? It does not surprise me, though, that such a nosy Muggle has been taken in by Harry. The Potters have long since exhibited such disgraceful behaviours. It is no wonder that Fleamont and Euphemia were stricken from the Sacred Twenty-Eight.”

I don’t know if I would call Harry and I friends still, but again, it didn’t seem like the best moment for that piece of information. 

“Blood traitors, the whole damn family,” Bellatrix snarled, making a few of the people at the table nod emphatically. 

Voldemort flicked two of his long, bony fingers, inviting Draco forward. Everything in my body was screaming at me not to move any closer to the dark wizard, but Draco grabbed my arm, just above my elbow, and tugged me with him. 

It wouldn’t serve any purpose to struggle against Draco other than give the table something to mock, and I refused to give them any sort of satisfaction if I could help it. I decided that, as I neared the Dark Lord, I wouldn’t give these people anything. If I couldn’t help at Hogwarts, if I couldn’t fight with everyone else, then this would be my contribution. I knew more than most, but they didn’t know that. And they never would. 

We stopped to the side of Voldemort’s chair, and Draco released my arm. I cursed him silently, because his touch was the only thing grounding me as I faced the most evil, feared wizard in history. 

Panic threatened to rise up in the form of bile in my throat at the thought, but I swallowed it. Regarding the man- the _creature_ \- in front of me, I pretended he was any other wizard. I prayed my face seemed as calm as I thought it did. 

I had never even seen an image of the wizard before, so I was entirely unprepared for the way that he looked. His face was sharp, thin, pale; his eyes were sallow and dark, and his nose was entirely missing from his face. His dark robes seemed to move around him like black smoke, and with every breath he took, I could feel the dark magic that lived inside of him. 

No wonder people were afraid to even utter his name. The man, though I didn’t think he could possibly still be one, was fucking terrifying. 

I wondered what he had looked like before he’d become the monster he was now. I knew, from the awful fiasco that was second year, that he had been human once upon a time, but I hadn’t seen him like Harry had. I wondered what kind of awful, terrible magic one had to perform and what horrific things one had to do to turn into the creature that was Voldemort. 

There was a whisper of humanity in the shape of his body and the movements he made, but other than that, he was horribly _other_. 

Voldemort reached out a pale hand, his cracked nail digging into my skin as he tilted my chin up with one finger. “Never would I have suspected such a plain-looking Mudblood to cause so much trouble,” he said. 

I had long since stopped flinching at that word, but the way Voldemort said it made it filled with more contempt, more complete and utter hatred, that I had a hard time hiding my reaction. I said nothing, my hands stuck to my side as if bound. 

“And what a brave face she’s putting on,” Voldemort taunted, causing his followers to snicker. “Oh, Narcissa, look at what she’s done to your house,” he tutted, his eyes bouncing across each droplet of blood that I had spilled onto the floor as I’d walked. “My condolences.”

Narcissa Malfoy, her face tight, responded, “It is no matter, my lord. Kreacher shall clean it.”

“Even still,” Voldemort continued, turning back to me. “It is a shame that such foul blood is disgracing such a noble house. Tell me, Draco,” he said, his attention turning towards Draco, “how is it that you are so inept at Side-Along Apparition?”

I sensed Draco tense briefly before he answered. “My apologies, lord. It was my first time.”

Voldemort thought for a moment before he looked at Bellatrix, who looked back at him with an expression that neared love. I had to hold back a gag as she looked at him with such adoration I wondered just how devoted she was to him. 

“Bellatrix.”

“Yes, my lord?” Bellatrix answered eagerly. 

“I do believe you know some healing spells, do you not?” Voldemort asked, and Bellatrix’s face lit up with a maniacal grin. “We wouldn’t want our new guest to suffer.” 

“Yes, my lord. Of course, my lord.”

Bellatrix pulled out her wand, a short, crooked stick, and aimed it at me. Her eyes told me that what was about to come was not going to be fun. For me, at least. 

That still did not prepare me for what I was about to endure. 

A blinding flash of white-hot pain tore up my arm, and I let out a soft groan through gritted teeth as her non-verbal spell attacked me. My vision flashed black as the pain ripped through my body for what felt like hours, but I kept on my feet. 

It was like my arm was being torn apart and sewn back together over and over again as the spell blasted its way through the open wound. Every bit of magic, which normally felt so warm and invigorating, now felt like wicked fire eating away at my body. 

After a few moments, the pain disappeared, and I could hear evil cackles that were flying around the room as my body recovered from the assault. My breathing was ragged, and my arm was now pouring red, sticky blood in a renewed wave of fresh gore. 

“Now, now, Bellatrix. You’ve gone and made such a mess,” Voldemort chastised, but it wasn’t sincere in the slightest. “I’m sure your sister does not appreciate you sullying her house any further.” 

“My apologies, lord,” Bellatrix replied, with the same amount of sarcasm as her master. “My apologies, Cissy,” she said to her sister. 

“It is nothing Kreacher cannot take care of,” Narcissa said stiffly. 

My head was spinning slightly and my ears were ringing with the aftershocks of the spell as Voldemort curled a lip in disgust at the blood running down my arm. I had the small urge to punch him, but my arm was in no state. 

Besides, you know, he’d probably just kill me on the spot. 

I kept my chin up, refusing to let anyone, especially Draco, see how thoroughly Bellatrix’s little performance had wracked my body. Snape was looking at me, but I forced my eyes elsewhere. That bloody _traitor_. I felt a rage surge in me at the thought of my professor. He was the reason I was here at all. 

Dumbledore _trusted_ him, and look where that had gotten him. Harry had often suspected that Snape hadn’t really turned good, and Hermione had always shut him down rather quickly. Now, though, I knew Harry had been right all along. No man that was so surrounded by whispers of violence and past dark deeds could possibly be trustworthy. 

Fat load of good that did me now, huh? I hoped that Dumbledore would find Snape out sooner rather than later. I have never understood why or _how_ he trusted Snape so completely. It seemed I had aggressively underestimated the Slytherin head of House. 

I hoped Snape felt guilty for betraying the man who gave him a second chance. I also hoped that he was met with a rather unpleasant end, because that greasy asshole deserved nothing less. And I hoped that for the rest of his days, Snape would remember the staining red of my blood on the Malfoy's tile floor. 

“Elaine Adler, yes?” Voldemort asked. 

I didn’t respond, mostly due to stubbornness. He obviously already knew who I was; what was the point of asking? Another blinding surge of pain coursed through me. This time, it was shorter, and Voldemort looked at me with disdain as I did my best to keep my reactions to a minimum. 

It was harder this time, and my knees wobbled slightly, my head pounding with pain even after the spell left my body. 

“Seems the Mudblood needs to be taught some manners, does it not?” Voldemort announced, causing the room to fill with jeers and shouts. “It isn’t her fault she had such an unfortunate upbringing. Muggles are no better than pigs, in my opinion. No better than the very dirt we walk on.”

Agreements sounded from Voldemort’s followers as he spoke. Draco nodded along with them, but I ignored him. I was focused on trying to push away the fog the pain was leaving around my brain. 

“Elaine Adler, yes?” Voldemort asked once more. 

Fine, you ugly bastard, I thought. I dipped my chin in answer, not quite ready to face another round of Bellatrix’s magic.

“Mudblood, born to Muggles Richard and Martha Adler, sixth year Ravenclaw at Hogwarts,” Voldemort added, making dread hit me as he laid down details of my life. “Top of your class in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and rather well-versed in Charms and Transfiguration.”

I nodded once more. Such accomplishments seemed so childish and futile when said by Voldemort, as if he were mocking me. 

“Such potential is such a waste on someone with such impure blood,” Voldemort lamented. “But it is to our benefit now, is it not? For Ms. Adler has become quite the curious student in recent months. It seems she feels she understands what is happening in our world, and that she has a place in the fight.”

Heat crept up the back of my neck, but I ignored it. No matter what he said, I knew I belonged in the Wizarding world. I had faced this kind of shit before, and I could fight through it again. This was nothing new, I told myself. It was just like suffering through years of insults and taunts at Hogwarts from bigoted students who couldn’t think for themselves. 

“And Ms. Adler, in her insatiable quest for knowledge, has stumbled upon more than one of our secrets, hasn’t she?” Voldemort asked Snape, who confirmed his question. 

“Not only that,” Voldemort said, rising from his chair. “But it seems that she and Draco have become... _close_ ,” he sneered, shooting a harsh look at Draco’s parents. 

Lucius Malfoy, looking rather sickly and shaky, said, “My lord, Draco would never mingle with her kind. I swear it. We taught him correctly.”

“I’m sure you did, Lucius,” Voldemort answered. “So why, then, is Draco doing his best to shove me from his mind at this very moment?”

“My lord, I am-” Draco started, but Voldemort raised a large hand and brought it crashing down across Draco’s face, causing his head to snap to the side. My heart wrenched at the sound of the impact and at the red mark already blooming on Draco’s alabaster skin. 

Draco let out no noise as he righted himself and dipped his head in submission. “It is not intentional, my lord. Professor Snape has been teaching me Occlumency. It has become a habit, my lord.”

“Occlumency?” Voldemort repeated. 

“Yes, lord. I thought it would be best for the boy, in case Albus became suspicious,” Snape told him. 

“Very good,” Voldemort praised, and Snape straightened his shoulders as he spoke. “As for Ms. Adler, I had no desire to delve into a mind so primitive. Perhaps she could be persuaded using other methods.” 

The way he said _other methods_ set my nerves on edge. That sounded far more threatening than I really felt comfortable with. It didn’t matter, though. I had made up my mind that I wasn’t going to break. 

Christ, it felt so bloody dramatic to think such noble, brave thoughts when I had no idea what was going to happen. I felt like a child playing pretend, not like a real participant of this war. I’d somehow gone from some Muggleborn Ravenclaw to being interrogated by the Dark Lord himself in Draco’s house while alleged Death Eaters watched on with glee. What kind of qualifications did I have to be so involved in this? Yes, I was close with Harry, Hermione, and Ron, but other than that, what place did I have in this stupid war?

Why had I thought I was such an important, crucial part to all of this just because I’d stumbled across a few things I wasn’t meant to discover? 

It felt surreal. I wished it _wasn’t_ real, but the pain lancing up my arm was very much real. Everything was real, and I was truly facing something I was not prepared to face. Still, I knew I held information that Voldemort wanted, and I knew that I had to do everything I could to keep it from him, if only to save my friends. 

And to save Draco. 

“My lord, may I-”

“Bellatrix,” Voldemort cut her off sharply. “Speak when spoken to.”

“Yes, my lord. Sorry, my lord,” Bellatrix responded, and I genuinely thought she might be on the verge of tears as she bowed her head. 

Strange, evil, messed up woman, that one. And she was Draco’s _aunt_. I often forgot that many of the Pureblood families were closely related. 

“Draco, bring her to the basement. We shall decide what to do with our guest later. We have business to attend to,” Voldemort commanded. 

As one, everyone stood from their chairs and Voldemort exited the room, followed closely by his massive snake. The rest of the room followed suit, leaving Draco and I alone. Draco guided me to the opposite side of the room where a set of stairs led down, framed by two curving staircases on either side that led up to the second floor of the mansion. 

Draco muttered, “ _Lumos_ ,” as we entered the basement, lighting the dark space so that he could tap the lanterns lining the wall. 

They came to life, casting a yellowish glow on the bare room. The walls, the floor, the ceiling were all made with cement, and it smelled of mildew and something faintly metallic I didn’t want to put a name to. 

Draco sighed heavily then, casting a worried glance at my arm. “Elaine,-”

“Don’t,” I interrupted. “Whatever you’re going to say, it doesn’t matter. I’m here and there’s nothing we can do. And don’t worry,” I added as Draco furrowed his brow. “I’m not going to divulge any of your dirty little secrets.”

“Bloody hell,” Draco swore softly. “Like I care about that right now. Why aren’t you taking this seriously?”

“I am,” I objected. “There’s just no use in apologizing or bitching about something that is already happening and that we can’t change. And thanks to your lovely cousin, I’ve already got a fun little taste of what’s waiting for me, so excuse me if I’m a bit out of sorts. Being tortured can do that to you,” I said sarcastically.

“Believe me, I’ve been on the receiving end of a number of Bellatrix’s hexes before. You aren’t the only one. Merlin, Elaine,” Draco sighed again. “I’m...I can get you out of this. I promise you. I-I never…” Draco stopped, rubbing his face. “I never wanted this. You know that, right?”

“Christ, how sweet,” I replied. “The boy I’m in love with never wanted me to be captured by the darkest, most evil wizard to ever exist.”

Draco glared at me, flinching a bit at my casual mention of feelings. “This isn’t the time for jokes,” Draco snapped. “You and I are both in a hell of a lot of danger. This isn’t fucking funny.”

“No, Draco, you’re right. It isn’t. Do you see me laughing?” I retorted. “Nothing about this is fucking funny, but at least you’re leaving with your life.”

“Always one for dramatics, aren’t you?”

I gave him a surprised look. “Can you honestly tell me, right now, that you think they’re just going to let me go after they’re done doing...whatever they have planned with me?”

I wanted him to say yes. It was so damn foolish, but part of me was still…

“I can’t,” Draco admitted, his voice rough. 

That part of me shattered harshly, and I was left with nothing but grim resignation. “Well, that’s that, isn’t it.”

Draco surged forward at that, capturing my mouth in a kiss that nearly had tears pricking my eyes. It was like he was putting all of his feelings and words and regrets into that one kiss, and it practically stole my breath from my lungs. Draco’s hands were on either side of my face, holding onto me like I was going to slip through his fingers like smoke. 

I wasn’t, though. I was _here_ and he was here with me and as I went to thread my hands through his blond hair, Draco suddenly pulled back, causing a crack to spread in my chest. No, I wanted _more_ , I wasn’t _done_. I wanted…

Fuck, I wanted nothing more than more _time_ . I wanted more time to discover every part of Draco, even the dark, secret parts. I wanted more time to hear him say- say whatever he felt about me, and I wanted more time so that I could just _be_ with him. 

I wanted more time with Draco more than anything in that moment, even my freedom. Suddenly, any embarrassment I might’ve had about telling him I loved him was gone. I was glad he knew before whatever was about to happen happened. 

“Sorry, I had to. Just one last time,” Draco apologized softly. “I have to go.”

Draco stepped away from me, walking back up the stairs and breaking through the locking wards long enough to open the door. With a look that was so heavy it seemed to crush me, Draco whispered, “ _Expelliarmus._ ”

My wand flew from my pocket, and I felt the first seeds of betrayal and hurt plant themselves in me. I was now entirely defenseless, and I was about to be entirely alone. I prayed my emotions would stay back long enough for Draco to leave, but the panicked terror rising in me was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. 

My situation was _bad_ . Fuck, it was _so_ bad. And I couldn’t do a damn thing about it now. Not without my wand. 

“I’m so sorry,” Draco said, softly enough that I could barely hear him. 

_One last time_. 


	38. False Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! first of all thank you for all the well wishes you are all so sweet! i tested negative at first but i went and took another test to be safe, and that one came back positive so ive been stuck at home for the past three days. i feel honestly totally fine besides being really tired all the time. its just the boredom thats getting to me! anyways thank you all again you all are so sweet and i hope you enjoy this chapter! i wrote it kinda fast so im sorry if theres any mistakes :)

Time seemed to trickle by in painstakingly slow increments as I sat in the Malfoys’ cellar with nothing to do but sort through my thoughts. I had sat in the corner of the room furthest away from the door once Draco had left, and I hadn’t moved since. 

My arm pulsed painfully as the rip in my skin from being splinched tried to heal itself. It had stopped bleeding, which was a very small positive in all of the negative that was going on. I’d developed a lovely headache from Bellatrix’s hex, and my arm felt heavier and weaker than usual. I debated using a bit of my shirt to wrap my arm with, but in all honesty, I’d rather have an open wound that be partial shirtless in front of Voldemort. 

Call me crazy. 

I was, quite frankly, warring a bit within myself. The way I saw it, I really had two choices: I could fight, and likely die before I did any real harm to anyone besides myself, or I could completely give up and definitely die, but it would likely be a quicker end. 

The coward in me was screaming to not put up a fight, to focus on self-preservation and not worry about anyone else. That did seem like the easiest option, though I hated to admit it. This wasn’t my fight; or, at least, it  _ hadn’t _ been until I stuck my nose in places it didn’t belong, as Draco liked to tell me. 

I hated that Draco had been right. I had been so cocky, had tried to be so  _ brave _ , but I’d really just fooled myself into thinking I was important enough or strong enough or powerful enough to even make a fucking difference. 

But... _ fuck _ . I sighed, pushing my hair out of my face. It  _ was _ my fight, wasn’t it? At least partially. I was one of the people Voldemort and his band of devoted followers loathed the most. Shouldn’t that make me want to do whatever I could to help defeat him?

I let out a sorrowful laugh at that. I felt so fucking ridiculous, thinking things like that. I was a  _ child _ , and here I was, thinking about things like war and defeating some evil wizard that hated me purely because of who my parents were. Though I’d known I was a witch for nearly six years, there were still times where everything felt...unreal. Strange. Pureblood politics was one of those things. It had never made sense to me why those with two magical parents so often assumed they were so much better than everyone else. From what I’d seen, the students with two magical parents weren’t  _ better _ or  _ smarter _ overall than the rest of us. 

I wondered if anyone had noticed I was gone. I wasn’t entirely sure how much time had passed, but it had to be at least close to curfew, if not curfew already. Surely, Cho and Luna would notice when I didn’t come to bed, right? 

Even if they did, though, what did that mean? My salvation? Not bloody likely. I was smart enough to realize I wasn’t getting out of here unless,  _ shit _ , unless nothing, really. Unless Voldemort decided to have a massive change of heart and simply let me go. 

I shook my head. What stupid line of thinking that was. Then it occured to me: it was likely that Snape had gone back to Hogwarts and likely covered up the fact that I was gone, so as to not raise suspicion. He’d probably tell everyone I was serving bloody detention so they wouldn’t be worried when I didn’t come to bed before my roommates fell asleep. 

So, I wasn’t getting out of here. My next option was to think about what valuable information I had, right? Maybe there was something I could use for leverage. 

I knew about the Shadow, though I doubted that would help. I knew about Draco, but they obviously already knew that. I knew Snape was a spy, but surely Voldemort knew he was playing double agent. He was likely the one who put him up to it in the first place. I knew...christ, I knew fuck-all, didn’t I? 

Then I remembered the Felix Felicis I had stashed under my bed from the very beginning of the year. Now  _ that _ would’ve been helpful, but a fat load of good it did me now. I had to resist the urge to slam my head into the wall behind me in frustration. 

It dawned on me, then. It wasn’t an entirely fair plan, and it probably would backfire, but Voldemort already thought I was close with Harry. I could surely  _ somehow _ use that to my advantage, right?

There was definitely some way I could play that up, make myself seem valuable enough to give anyone the chance to rescue me. I knew rescue was a long shot, but if I didn’t have hope, things would get pretty dark pretty quickly. 

Of course, I wouldn’t reveal anything true or of real value about Harry. Even though we hadn’t been on the best of terms this year, he was still my friend and besides, what kind of arse would I be to sell someone out to Voldemort? Voldemort had an unhealthy obsession with Harry, though, and I wagered that he’d be hard-pressed to pass up any chance for information about him. 

Alright, so I had a plan. A really flimsy, very frail plan, but a plan nevertheless. It would at least lengthen whatever was coming next, but I had a feeling I might not want it to go on longer. 

More time passed, and though I couldn’t be sure, I guessed it had been around a few hours when the door to the cellar finally opened again. My eyes had become so adjusted to the dark that the light that flooded in made my squint. 

Draco stepped down into the cellar and shut the door behind him, plunging the room back into the state of almost total darkness it had been for the past however long I had been down there. I stood, but didn’t approach him. I didn’t know if someone was watching, and as mad as I was at Draco for taking my wand, I didn’t want to put him in any danger. 

Well, any  _ more _ danger. 

My mind longed to reach out for him, to let him embrace me like the one time he had before, or to kiss him like it was the last time I would get to do so, but I didn’t. I couldn’t let myself. 

“They want you in the dining room,” Draco told me, his voice low. His face was paler than usual, and his hair looked like he’d been running his hands through it nervously. He looked  _ worried _ , I realized. As stupid as it was, it comforted me a little bit. “We have a few minutes, though. I-”

I shook my head. If Draco started talking about anything, especially concerning the two of us...I just couldn’t do it. “Let’s just go, alright? No need to draw the fun out.”

Draco clearly did not like my attempt at humor, but I didn’t care.  _ I _ was the one in danger, not him. I was allowed to joke around as much as I wanted as far as I was concerned. I met Draco at the foot of the cellar steps, taking a moment to breath in his familiar smell. 

I was going to be okay, I told myself. One way or another, I would reach the end. It  _ would _ end. That made me feel the smallest bit better. Besides, I thought with a twisted sense of humor, if I don’t make it out of this, that means I don’t have to worry about finding a new place to live at the end of term. 

At least I wasn’t losing my sense of humor. That was good. 

Draco looked as if he wanted to hug me, but he decided against it. Instead, he cupped my face gently with a hand that I could’ve sworn was trembling a bit. He looked into my eyes, and I traced the deep blue ring that circled his silver irises as he said, “This isn’t the end.”

“Isn’t it?” I asked. 

Draco shook his head. “No.  _ No _ . It can’t be, because--it just isn’t. It’s not the end. I’ll get you out of this.”

“There’s no way for you to get me out of this without putting yourself in danger, and you know that,” I argued with him. 

“That isn’t true.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Do you not  _ want _ to get out of this?” Draco snapped at me irritably. At another time, I would’ve matched his attitude, but I wasn’t really feeling it currently. 

“I do,” I insisted. “I’m just being realistic. And I’m not going to have your blood on my hands. At least, not  _ again _ ,” I joked softly, but Draco didn’t laugh. 

“So it’s okay for me to have yours on mine?” Draco argued. 

I shrugged. “I figured it wouldn’t bother you that much.”

An unfair blow, but I wanted to see if Draco would tell me how he felt, just one last time. The only way I knew how to get him to do that by now was pestering him and throwing myself under the bus until he got cross enough with me that he exploded. 

“Fuck you,” Draco told me. “You know that isn’t true. Don’t be stupid. You know how much I care about you, even if it makes no bloody sense to me most of the time. Don’t do that, not right now.” 

“Do what?”

“Act like you aren’t worth anything until I get angry enough that I tell you otherwise!” 

Well, shit. 

“I just...I’m not going to let you do anything stupid to try and help me, because we both know I’m not getting out of this,” I told him. “I care about you...christ, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. You know that. I’ve...I’ve told you that.”

“You know, this whole martyr act of yours is getting old,” Draco said. “You act as if your life doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. You act like you’re a fucking island, and you’re not. There are people who care about you, and you won’t even give them the fucking decency of fighting? Even if you don’t want to fight for yourself, you could at least fight because there are people that would-”

“I never said I was giving up! I just said that there’s very little chance Voldemort’s going to let me go, so what’s the point of you trying to help?” Draco winced at the name and I sighed. “I’m just trying to minimize casualties.”

“Bloody un-fucking-believable,” Draco muttered. “When will you get it through that thick fucking skull of yours that people  _ care _ about you? You fucking act like you don’t matter to anyone, even though you  _ know _ full fucking well that isn’t true, just because you don’t think you deserve to be cared about! You don’t get to fucking push people away and act as if your life is worthless just because you--that isn’t fair, Elaine.” 

“You’re one to talk about what’s bloody fair,” I pointed out. “ _ You _ aren’t the one who literally got bloody kidnapped!” 

Draco’s jaw tightened and I wanted to press a kiss to the sharp line and ease the tension. But I didn’t. “We don’t have time for this,” he said. “We have to go.”

“I’m assuming I don’t get my wand back?” Draco raised an eyebrow at me. “Sorry, thought it might be worth asking.” 

Draco stepped aside, letting me lead us out of the cellar. He placed a hand on my back as I walked up, and I thought it was him trying to reassure me until I felt the familiar sensation of my wand being tucked into my waistband. I quickly pulled my top over the wand, hiding it from sight. 

The faint graze of his skin against mine, even over my shirt, made goosebumps rise across my skin. It was certainly not the time or the place to be thinking about it, but I wished that I could feel his touch, entirely uninhibited, just once before he led me back to Voldemort. 

You always think that you’ll know exactly what to do in these situations, that you’ll be cool under pressure and be strong and have your focus entirely on the danger at hand, but I was quickly finding out that certainly was  _ not _ the case. I wasn’t sure why I’d had such confidence in myself concerning dangerous situations, but clearly, I’d misplaced my faith in myself. 

He had just taken a massive risk in giving me my wand back. I just hoped that it was going to be worth it. I had no idea what I was about to walk into, but I found my mind leaping from scenario to scenario, each darker and more horrid than the last. 

Draco shut the cellar door behind us and suddenly, I found myself missing the damp darkness of the room. It was quite preferable to what I was now facing. The massive windows lining the dining room showed it had shifted to night at some point while I’d been down in the cellar, and that brought no comfort to me besides the fact that now,  _ someone _ might’ve noticed I was gone. 

This time, though, the dining room was void of the long table and the seats that accompanied it, and in its stead stood Voldemort, Bellatrix, Snape, and the Malfoys. The rest of the Death Eaters weren’t anywhere to be seen. I definitely felt no sorrow for their absence. Lucius was looking at me like I was a spot of mud on his floor rather than a human, and Narcissa looked cold, pale, and exhausted. 

Snape, the bloody fucking bastard, had the gaul to make eye contact with me as Draco escorted me to the middle of the room. I considered flipping him off, but it probably wouldn’t have been the best decision. I hoped, though, that he would get what was coming to him. I didn’t care what it took; I would make sure that somehow, Dumbledore knew what Snape was doing. 

It was no wonder Harry’s parents, Sirius, and Professor Lupin had hated Snape so much as kids. 

If Snape was here, though, then maybe he hadn’t gone back to Hogwarts during my time in the cellar. I looked confidently at Snape, even though my arm was crusted with dry blood, and I was walking to what was likely my doom. I wanted Snape to feel guilty. 

Voldemort greeted me with a smile as I walked to the centre of the room, and the sight of his broken, brown teeth made bile rise in my throat. Bellatrix looked nearly beside herself with glee. Draco left me alone once I was in front of Voldemort. He went to stand next to his mother, who put her arm around him protectively. His father, however, did not so much as glance at him. 

He was another man high on my hypothetical revenge list. 

Voldemort examined me for a moment, his gaunt, misshapen face smooth with indifferent curiosity. “Elaine Adler, you have been quite the unforeseen complication, haven’t you.” 

It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t respond. I just held his gaze, as terrifying as his snake-like eyes were.

“I was rather surprised when Bellatrix and Draco brought you to me. I was not even aware of your existence, though why would I be? You are nothing more than a disease, nothing more than a  _ parasite _ .” Bellatrix cackled at Voldemort’s insult, but I did not react. I had been called Mudblood and worse many times over my years at Hogwarts. I could handle a bit of name-calling. 

“And I would be lying if I did not admit that I was thrilled my devoted servant had brought me a bit of entertainment in these boring times. You see, I cannot leave this manor, not truly. It is far too dangerous, and I have not regained my full strength, even now. So I thank you, girl, for giving me something to look forward to. And how convenient is it that you are one of Harry Potter’s closest friends.

“It does not surprise me that you and Harry have become close,” Voldemort told me. “Those unwanted by life tend to find one another, don’t they? Both unloved by your parents, both left to raise yourselves, both unaware of magic’s existence until your letters arrived.”

Mentally, I argued with him. Harry’s parents loved him; I knew that much from Sirius’ and Professor Lupin’s stories. They’d both died in hopes of protecting him. My parents, though--Voldemort was right about that. There was no love lost between the three of us, though. If Voldemort thought he could get anywhere with that angle, he was sorely mistaken. 

“The difference, though, is that while Harry has at least a bit of magical blood in him, you…” Voldemort sneered at me, “you have none. You may call yourself a witch, but you are just one more link in the long chain of Muggles perverting the sanctity of magic.” 

Voldemort gestured Bellatrix forward, and her glee was almost palpable as she pulled out her crooked wand, guiding its point towards my chest. “Tell us, please, how you managed to steal what was not rightfully yours, and this will be easy.” 

I knew, just from being friends with Hermione for years, that it wasn’t  _ possible _ to steal magic. I had no answer for him, then. I simply looked at Voldemort with an expression that I hoped conveyed nothing--not calm, not boredom, not anger. Just nothing. 

Voldemort tutted. “Perhaps, then, you need a bit of persuasion. Bellatrix, if you-”

“ _ Crucio!”  _

The pain that ripped through my body this time was one hundred times worse than Bellatrix’s previous attack. It felt as if my very bones were being melted by molten lava, like my blood was being replaced with white-hot fire, like my skin was being taken apart inch by inch. The pain seemed to go on forever, and I could hear myself screaming, but it was as if I were underwater. All I knew was pain, and fire, and hurt, and heat, and agony.

My vision was becoming spotty, and I felt like I was going to pass out from the pain. I  _ prayed _ I was going to pass out, because nothing I’d ever experience came even close to the level of pure agony that was tearing away at every bit of my body. 

And then, it was over. The pain disappeared from my body like someone had thrown water onto a fire, but the aftershocks tore through my frame, making me sink to my knees as I tried to stop myself from trembling. My ears were ringing so loudly I could barely hear anything, but I still forced myself back to my feet, my stomach lurching with the movement. My arms had wrapped around myself at some point, and the movement had tore open the gash on my bicep. At this point, I was going to count myself lucky if just  _ that _ stopped. 

Voldemort looked at me, and there was still no respect in his eyes, but that shouldn’t have surprised me. “Well, that was a rather pathetic display, wasn’t it?”

Pathetic? I thought I’d handled that rather well. 

“Magic does not belong to you,” Voldemort snarled, looking down at me with disdain. “You, as well as all the other Mudbloods, continue to tarnish the Wizarding World with your very presence. The sooner you are all eradicated, the sooner our world can become pure once more.”

What a load of fucking shit. If anything, most of the kindest people I’d met during my time at Hogwarts weren’t Purebloods. Quite frankly, I’d rather give up my magic than live in the world Voldemort and his followers longed for. 

Voldemort flicked his hand, and like I had been pushed, I fell to my knees, my bones cracking solidly against the marble floor. My back bent against my will, my bones grinding together as Voldemort’s magic forced me to kneel in front of him. “Magic does not belong to you, you vile, dirty,  _ Muggle _ . Magic does not belong to you!”

Bellatrix’s high voice called out the curse again, and it was  _ worse  _ this time. God, it was  _ so  _ much worse, because my body already ached and it was already hard to breathe. My body felt like it was on fire once more, like my bones were being broken inch by inch, like my body was being sliced open and taken apart piece by piece. Vomit rose in my throat, but even through the pain, I  _ refused  _ to fucking  _ vomit _ . 

Voldemort called Bellatrix off, and I gasped as the agony eased. There was no doubt that those who performed that curse should be punished. It was worse than anything I’d ever felt, and even after it ended, my body was still trembling, my bones still cried out with every movement. 

“Perhaps if you have any information of value concerning your Chosen One, I shall offer you mercy, Mudblood.”

I nodded stiffly, my body sore from the Unforgivable Curse I had been subjected to. Voldemort smiled, but the expression was entirely cold and vile; there was not a single trace of warmth or kindness in the action. It was almost more unsettling than him staring me down. 

“Good. If you choose to cooperate, then perhaps this will not be so difficult for you, yes?” 

I nodded again. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Draco stiffen slightly, and his mother’s hand that was resting on his shoulder twitched the slightest bit. I hoped Draco knew I wasn’t  _ actually _ going to sell out Harry, but I hadn’t considered the fact that he thought I actually might. As far as Draco knew, Harry and I were still fighting. That might actually work to my advantage, I realized. 

I felt smaller than I thought possible as I knelt before Voldemort. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was nothing more than an imposter, that I was nothing more than a child playing soldier while the adults entertained my fantasy. It might’ve been the after-effects of the curse, but I felt so  _ stupid _ for getting myself into this. It was as if I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around the fact that I was actually  _ here _ , being tortured by Voldemort. 

If I was lucky, maybe I could just open my eyes and I’d be back in my dormitory at Hogwarts, lying in the same four poster bed I’d been sleeping in since September, with Cho on my left and Luna on my right. This couldn’t be real, could it? I was not Harry; I wasn’t Hermione, or Ron, or Draco. I didn’t have a place in this fight like they did. 

“This would be easier if your mind was worth delving into,” Voldemort lamented. “However, it would be more like digging through mud than memories. I would rather not dirty my own magic by touching yours. So tell me, Elaine, what has Harry been doing this year?”

“School,” I said, slightly breathlessly. “Studying.”

Pain crashed into me again, and I couldn’t help the shriek that left my mouth as my bones melted again, as my head felt like it was being torn apart, as all I knew faded away into agony. I was vaguely aware of my head smashing into the ground as I convulsed. 

As I choked on a breath as relief finally came, Voldemort hissed, “Do not play stupid with me,  _ girl _ . What has Harry done? What has that stupid headmaster of yours been doing with him?”

Warm liquid dribbled down the side of my face, dripping onto the floor. I didn’t wipe it away, though. Some vindictive part of me  _ wanted _ Lucius to see my ‘dirty’ blood staining his floors again. 

The thing was, I didn’t actually know what Harry had been getting up to. Harry hadn’t really shared any of that with me, and if they had been doing anything, Harry and I had been fighting more of the year than we’d be friends, so I’d have no clue anyways. 

So I said the first thing that came to mind. “Training.”

“Training?” Voldemort repeated, stopping Bellatrix with a flick of his inhuman hand when she tried to approach. 

“Training,” I confirmed, wracking my brain for a plausible story. “Dumbledore wants Harry to take over for him. Dumbeldore is going to step back from the war.” My words were choppy, slurred from my panting breath, but I continued. “Dumbledore’s been trying to make Harry replace him, but Harry said Dumbledore said he wasn’t doing well enough.”

Voldemort mulled over my words for a moment. “Severus did not mention anything about this. Did he, Draco? Have you noticed anything that would confirm this Mudblood’s story?”

I saw Draco shake his head out of the corner of my eye. “Potter’s barely been in class this year, though, my lord,” Draco told him reverently. A rush of gratitude that hit me as Draco spoke, as Draco lied directly to Voldemort to secure my story. 

“That old fool is stepping back?” Voldemort asked, more to himself than anyone else in the room. “I must admit, I did not see that coming. However…”

I braced myself for the next wave of pain that was going to come as Bellatrix said, “My lord, do you really believe this girl? Dumbledore would never-”

“Quiet!” Voldemort commanded, raising his hand. Bellatrix whimpered, either in pain or in submission, and firmly shut her mouth at her lord’s command. “Dumbledore has been attempting to lead this war for far too long. Perhaps the old man has finally run out of steam. And of course he would choose the boy to replace him, even with many more experienced wizards at his disposal. Dumbledore has put far too much time into that boy to simply throw him to the side once he became too old to fight. He is stupid enough to continue using Harry as a figurehead for his side, even when Harry is nothing more than a pathetic boy with little to offer.”

I could hardly believe that my lie had actually worked. Voldemort seemed to be drawing conclusions I had not even suggested, and I wondered if perhaps Voldemort bought it because he  _ wanted _ it to be the truth.

“And you say that Harry is not doing well?” Voldemort asked. 

“Yes,” I confirmed. “He told me Dumbledore is expecting too much from him. He said...he said he never wanted to fight in the first place.” It was partially true. I’d heard Harry say many times over the years that he was not the person the Wizarding world wanted him to be. He wasn’t a  _ saviour _ \-- he was just lucky. He didn’t want to fight because he was a kid. He’d told me once that it was far too much responsibility for him to handle. 

My wand was digging into my back as I bent over, but I had no idea when, or if I would even be  _ able _ , to pull it out and begin fighting. As it was, my hands were shaking far too much to hold my wand, let alone use it accurately. 

“That does not surprise me,” Voldemort said, a smug air entering his raspy voice. “His father was nothing more than a pathetic blood traitor, and his mother?” Voldemort cackled, and Bellatrix joined in. “No better than  _ you _ . A filthy, incompetent,  _ Mudblood _ . It is a shame the Potter name was sullied by the two of them. Harry has never been anything but a lapdog. He is  _ nothing _ without Dumbledore.

“And, with Dumbledore soon being taken care of, whether he chooses to step back from the fight or not, what does your side have left?” Voldemort asked, clearly delighted. “A band of children who think they know everything, and an even smaller band of adults that believe, because they escaped last time, that they will still have their lives when this is over.”

Voldemort saying that Dumbledore was going to be taken care of soon did  _ not _ inspire much confidence in me at all. Draco’s hand twitched at the mention of Dumbledore. At least my lie hadn’t been one that was unbelievable, but somehow, it had only managed to make me feel worse. 

I hadn’t really thought about the outcome of the war until that moment. What would happen if Voldemort won? Even if I wasn’t entirely sure that I wasn’t going to leave the manor with my life, I likely would’ve been dead within days after his victory anyway. 

What a lovely, comforting thought that was. 

“Is there anything more that you have for us?” Voldemort inquired, and I urged my brain, sluggish from the pain, to work faster. 

“S-Snape has been working with Dumbledore,” I uttered shakily. Surely, that was already common knowledge, but perhaps Voldemort would see it as my willingness to divulge information and  _ not _ a way to stall. 

Snape’s eyes hardened, and Voldemort turned to him. I lifted my eyes just enough to see Snape look at Voldemort with a cool confidence, but I could see his hands shake as he went to clasp them behind his back. 

“My lord, you know this,” Snape told his master calmly. “I have been reporting to you-”

“You have, yes, but your loyalties have long been disputed, both by my followers and Dumbledore’s. If this girl is aware of your spying, perhaps others are as well. Others on Dumbledore’s side. Perhaps you have not been as  _ careful _ as you’ve claimed,” Voldemort mused, and Snape looked as if he was trying not to squirm beneath his gaze. 

“My lord, you know that I am loyal to you, and you only. I have been loyal to you since-”

“Enough!” Voldemort growled. “You claim that you have been loyal to me since the beginning, but that is a lie, is it not? You gave Dumbledore information the moment you found out that the Mudblood Evans had  _ not _ been saved as I had promised you. The moment that filthy half-blood killed me, reduced me to  _ nothing _ , you were Dumbledore’s loyal pet once more.” 

_ Oh _ . I hadn’t...I hadn’t mentioned Snape with the real intent of putting him in danger. As much as I despised him, I didn’t want the man  _ dead _ . 

Snape was wise enough not to say anything, but the energy of the room had shifted to a suffocating uncomfortableness as Voldemort looked at the double agent. “Your loyalties are not secure. Do  _ not _ ,” Voldemort hissed when Snape opened his mouth, “tell me otherwise. Your actions this year have clearly not been what you have said they were. However...I am a merciful lord, am I not, Lucius?”

“Yes, my lord,” Lucius answered quickly. 

“Lucius, do you believe we should give Severus a chance to prove himself? He vouched for you when I returned and discovered that you had not been working tirelessly to bring me back, like my other  _ truly _ devoted followers.”

Snape and Lucius’ eyes met for a moment before Lucius swallowed and nodded. “Yes, my lord. He...he only needs a chance, and I know that he will not disappoint.”

Voldemort nodded. “Perhaps you’re right. I have been too hasty. Severus, would you like a chance to prove yourself to me?”

“Yes, my lord, more than anything,” Snape replied stiffly, and I had to stop my face from twisting in disgust at his willingness. 

“Good,” Voldemort smiled, and it was the smile of a predator toying with his prey. “Kill the girl, then, and I will consider this forgotten.”


	39. Breaking Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello all my apologies for the late upload! ive been going through some mental health struggles the past week, so ive been super unmotivated to write and honestly this chapter might not be great because of that but i hope you all still like it! (also apologies bc yall are gonna be mad at me) thank you all for your kind comments they truly mean the world to me! <3

“What?” I spluttered, entirely forgetting the situation I was in.  _ Kill _ me? So that Snape could prove his bloody worth? Surely,  _ surely _ , I deserved a better end than giving that snivelling git a second chance with Voldemort. 

“Quiet, girl,” Bellatrix hissed, her sallow eyes alight with glee as she watched Snape and Voldemort. 

Snape did not respond for a few moments, and I felt like I was going to vomit. Really, I was getting rather sick of these stupid, pregnant pauses where my safety or feelings were being debated. Each one felt like the sharp twist of a knife in my belly every time it happened. The drying blood on my head was beginning to itch, and my feet felt tingly and numb as I knelt on the ground, awaiting my fate from a man who had betrayed so many people already. 

Who had already attempted to torture me once. Christ, I hated him. 

Voldemort, his smoky robes swishing, moved closer to Snape, his bony fingers gripping his knobby wand. “Well, Severus? What shall it be? The girl’s death and your redemption, or the girl’s death, followed by yours?” Voldemort had to know Snape was only concerned with self-preservation, didn’t he? That was why he posed the question the way that he did. It would make much more sense in Snape’s mind for him to just kill me and be done with it, rather than lose his life for a student he’d never cared much for in the first place. 

“My lord, I-” Snape began, but Voldemort suddenly shushed him, his eyes rolling back slightly as he hissed with displeasure. Voldemort didn’t say anything, but when he righted himself, a dark fire seemed to crackled around him angrily. 

“Severus, it seems that time is of the essence,” Voldemort mused. “Make your choice, now, or I shall make it for you. Who will you pledge your loyalties to, hm?” Voldemort grinned darkly at his follower, whose beady eyes were stuck on his lord as Voldemort paced in front of him. “Me, the man who has given you everything you asked for? Or the man who couldn’t even save the woman you loved?”

Snape stiffened. It seemed Voldemort had hit quite the mark with that one, hadn’t he? Harry had told me that Sirius had told him a while ago that Snape had had some sort of terrible obsession with Harry’s mother while they were at Hogwarts. Not only an obsession, but that Snape had been in love with Lily, and according to Sirius, he might very well still be. Like Harry’s mother would’ve ever bothered with Snape in the first place. I’d seen pictures of Lily, and she’d been incredibly pretty; long red hair, kind green eyes, and a bright smile.

Snape, according to Sirius and Professor Lupin, had been as vindictive as a child as he was as a teacher. Snape had hated James even before Lily had fallen in love with him, and though it was unfair, that was the reason Snape despised Harry so much, even before Harry knew who he was. They hadn’t done into much detail, but from what Harry had relayed to me one night, on the anniversary of his parents’ death, Snape had loved Lily, and Lily had loved him too, as a friend. But that hadn’t been enough for Snape. 

“My lord, you know that my allegiance has always lied with you.”

“Then killing the girl should not be so difficult, yes?” Voldemort asked. “Her life is worth nothing-- her blood is easily spilt. Do it, Severus, before I lose my patience.”

I was wracking my brain, trying to find anything that might delay my rapidly-approaching doom, but there wasn’t much coming to mind. Believe it or not, I wasn’t entirely eager for Snape to kill me. I knew it was ridiculous, but I felt rather jilted that my demise came down to some greasy teacher who never grew out of his childhood bigotry proving his worth. If anyone had asked me, I would’ve told them Snape didn’t have much worth to prove anyway. But unfortunately, my opinion did not seem to be of interest to anyone. 

_ It should be _ , I thought miserably.  _ I’m the one whose life is on the line _ .

“Yes, my lord,” Snape nodded reverently to Voldemort, and the wizard stepped out of his follower’s way, opening up the path between Snape and I. I felt like I was going to be sick all over the Malfoy’s lovely tile flooring as Snape approached me, his black wand rising steadily to point at my kneeling form. This truly couldn’t be it, could it? I hadn’t ever taken the time to imagine my death in detail, but surely this was not how I was meant to go out. 

I refused to go out quietly, though. If this was my last chance to do something (what a strange thought that was), I might as well use my last moments to make sure Snape never forgot me. And this, I realized suddenly, was where my Slytherin traits came in. I felt vengeful, I felt  _ angry _ and bitter. I wanted to make sure Snape’s dreams were plagued with me. He deserved to feel remorseful and vile and unforgivable for the rest of his life, and I wanted to be the one to make him feel that way if he was enough of a fucking bastard to take my life purely because he was a bloody coward. 

Not only did I feel like tearing Snape apart, but I suddenly knew exactly how to do so. 

“You know, you’ve done a lot of things that Lily would’ve never forgiven you for, but this might just take the cake,” I said sweetly, locking eyes with my professor. 

Snape’s face reddened, and the grip on his wand tightened so much I thought I could hear the wood groaning. “How dare you speak her name?” Snape snarled at me. 

I let out a humorless laugh.  _ Okay, maybe this really will give me a bit more time _ . “How dare  _ I _ ? You’ve spent the past six years tormenting her son for no reason, and you’re saying  _ I _ shouldn’t say her name? Like Lily wouldn’t tell you off herself if she could.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re just a  _ child _ . You know nothing about L- about her,” Snape said, struggling to regain his calm. I didn’t, not really, but it was getting under his skin. The Malfoys were looking at the pair of us, and I longed for the comfort of Draco’s silver eyes, but I kept my gaze on Snape. 

“I may not know much about her, but she’s Harry’s mother, and I know Harry didn’t get everything from James. I’m guessing he got his loyalty from her, didn’t he? His eyes, too, but you knew that. Does it hurt, to look at him and see Lily? To see the woman who didn’t want you, the woman you couldn’t save?” I asked Snape, doing my best to make each word sting as sharply as the cut on my forehead did. Snape may be a vile, bitter asshole, but everyone had a tipping point, and it seemed I’d found his. 

“You speak so bravely for a brat whose life will not last another hour,” Snape hissed. “You think you can distract me? You think you can  _ hurt _ me by bringing up her name?” Snape walked forward, coming so close that I had to strain my neck to look up at him. “You know  _ nothing  _ of hurt.”

“I know that Lily might’ve given you a chance if you weren’t such an asshole. Maybe if you’d ever bothered to do the right thing, to be  _ brave _ , you would’ve ended up with Lily instead of James. But there is a reason you ended up in Slytherin, isn’t there?”

Snape glared at me, his shabby black shoe lifting to step on my hand that was splayed on the ground to hold myself up and ground into my fingers, the treadmarks biting into my skin. I winced as he said, “It is rather pathetic that you think you can speak about things you weren’t even alive to witness. James Potter was a pompous, stuck-up, proud  _ boy _ who never grew up, and Lily couldn’t see that-”

“See what? See that the boy who claimed he was in love with her was a part of a group that hated her very existence? Yes, how romantic of you.”

“Severus, I’m growing tired of her, and I am growing tired of your pathetic rambling. Kill her, _ now _ , or I shall. And I will let Bellatrix do the honor of taking  _ your _ life afterwards,” Voldemort growled. “Kill her. Now.” 

_ No, no, no _ . This couldn’t be it. All the stupid cliches started running through my head- I’m too young, I’m too scared, I haven’t done enough, I don’t want to die!- but it was useless. Snape pointed his wand directly at my head, and my heart was in my throat and I genuinely thought I might throw up all over Snape’s stupid shoes, which would be  _ so _ bloody embarrassing. I wanted to look at Draco, wanted to see reassurance in his face, but I knew it wouldn’t be there. 

None of the Malfoy’s had said a word in many minutes, and I was wondering, stupidly, if Draco would miss me after I was gone. What would they do with my body? Would Draco tell anyone what had happened, or would he just let everyone think I’d gone missing? 

As Snape’s mouth opened and my stomach jolted violently, Voldemort let out an inhuman noise, something that was a half hiss, half screech. Snape’s head turned towards Voldemort, whose eyes were fluttering as he muttered softly to himself. I looked nervously at Bellatrix, but she, too, seemed entirely confused by Voldemort’s sudden outburst. 

“He  _ knows _ ,” Voldemort hissed, his voice low, dangerous. “The boy  _ knows _ . He is near.”

_ Harry. He means Harry. _ Harry knew I was gone! Surely that’s what Voldemort meant, right? Who else would inspire such hatred in his serpent-like eyes? 

“My lord?” Lucius asked apprehensively. Voldemort held up a skeletal hand, silencing the blond man. Voldemort groaned, as if it pained him to speak. 

“Severus, kill the girl. Now!” Voldemort commanded, and Snape looked nervously towards me. “Now, or I promise you, Severus, you shall  _ beg _ for the mercy of death by the time I am done with you.”

Before Snape could turn towards me once more, the large windows that were casting shadows and moonlight onto the tile floor shattered with a sharp, high crack, raining glass onto the floor. The shards hit the ground all around me, some slicing into the bare skin of my hands and face, but I hardly noticed the stinging pain as I heard shouts and voices bursting from the destroyed windows. 

“Elaine!” Harry called out, and I swore I could’ve sobbed with relief as I heard his familiar voice. “I told you she was here! I told you!”

“Is now really the time for that?” Hermione asked sharply as she drew her wand on the group surrounding me. “We have to get Elaine, then you can gloat all you want, Harry.”

The words almost sounded surreal. They’d actually come for me. I had hoped for that, of course, but I hadn’t thought it was going to happen. Snape was still standing above me, frozen in partial shock, and I suddenly remembered the digging presence of my wand in my waistband. With a quickness that surprised even myself, I grabbed my wand from under my shirt and yelled, “ _ Stupify!”  _

The red sparks hit Snape square in the chest, throwing him back against the wall of the dining room. He hit it with a sound of heavy pain and fell to the ground, temporarily incapacitated. I stumbled to my feet, my head spinning in a kind reminder that I had likely hit my head hard enough to give myself a concussion. Draco, Lucius, and Narcissa were standing wide-eyed, but Bellatrix and Voldemort were tense, ready, like predators starting a hunt. 

“Elaine!” Harry yelled again, and without turning my back to Voldemort, I hurried towards him. With him was Hermione, Ron, Professor McGonagall, and Arthur Weasely, who looked like he had only been awake a very short time. Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen, which meant he couldn’t see Snape’s betrayal first hand. 

Oh well. Tonight was likely going to be enough to convince him of Snape’s true loyalties, even just by word of mouth. It had to be. Harry grabbed my wrist, tugging me into the group and shoving me behind the lot of them. I was grateful, as much as I hated to admit it. I needed a moment to collect myself and get myself right again before I could even hope to be any help at all. 

“My, my,” Voldemort snarled. “Who would’ve guessed the Mudblood had so many people willing to save her? Of course, I am not surprised in the least that it is all blood traitors and Mudbloods that came. Like calls to like, does it not?” 

Draco and I finally locked eyes, and I felt a crack in my heart as I saw the terror in his eyes that he wasn’t bothering to hide. I knew he was fearing the worst, for much of the worst had already happened. I couldn’t muster even a ghost of a smile to offer him some semblance of comfort, but I knew Draco understood what I was trying to tell him. 

I was going to get him out of here too. There was no way I’d leave him behind. 

“Voldemort,” McGongall said calmly, and I had never been more terrified of her than in that moment. “Let the girl go, and we can settle this. She is a child, and knows nothing of import. She is not a part of this war.”

Bellatrix cackled, the pitchy sound ringing in the unfurnished room. “Shut it,  _ bitch _ .” I bristled at her insult, but McGonagall didn’t even seem to hear it. “My lord, can I-”

“ _ Stupify! _ ” Arthur called out as Bellatrix began to raise her wand at McGonagall’s chest. The red sparks hit her and she stumbled back, shrieking horridly. 

And suddenly, the dining room was filled with the shouts of spells and colorful bursts of sparks as magic started flying every which way. Arthur was facing Bellatrix, Hermione and Ron were aiming their wands at Snape, though Hermione still looked hesitant to attack a teacher even if he was a spy, and McGonagall was doing her best to shield Harry from Voldemort. 

Lucius and Narcissa had not joined the fight, and while everyone was preoccupied, I rushed over to the three of them, not caring if Lucius hated my damn guts. Draco’s safety was worth putting up with his father’s wrath for a few minutes. 

“Draco,” I said, my voice cracking on the second syllable. “We have to get out of here. We-”

“He will not be going anywhere with  _ you _ ,” Lucius snapped, tightening his grip on Draco’s shoulder. “This is our house. You will not-”

“Will you shut up?” Narcissa hissed, whirling towards her husband. “We will not survive this if you continue to let your inane prejudices control you. We have to  _ leave _ if you want your son to survive this. You know the Dark Lord won’t let us leave willingly, not after this. He’ll blame us. He’ll blame  _ you _ .” 

“He won’t,” Lucius snapped, but he didn’t sound entirely confident about it. “How dare my wife speak to me in such a tone?” 

Narcissa tore the large silver-and-emerald ring off her left ring finger, throwing it to the ground where it clattered with a high  _ clink _ . “I have no interest in being your wife any longer, Lucius. Never again will I let you put my son in danger for your own damn gain. You stay here, then, and see what the Dark Lord does to you.”

Draco looked shocked at his mother’s outburst, but Lucius looked positively murderous. “How  _ dare _ you! I-”

“You,” Narcissa cut off sharply, “Will either be the man I hoped you were when we first met and help these children escape, or I shall never speak to you again. Draco shall never speak to you again.”

“I likely won’t even if he chooses to stop being a groveling coward,” Draco informed his father bitterly. Lucius’ hand shot out, intending to strike Draco across the face, but I directed my wand at his moving hand and cast a wall of protection around Draco. Lucius’ hand hit the charm with a thud, and Lucius took a step back as his blow was halted. 

I pointed my wand to him, then, anger heating my body as I looked at the man who had caused Draco so much pain. Perhaps I was seeing my father, too, as I growled, “You lay a fucking hand on him again, and I will tear you apart piece by fucking piece, you sorry excuse for a father.”

Draco looked rattled as he recovered from my spell saving him from his father’s quickly approaching wrath, but the panic turned to appreciation soon after. I couldn’t take my eyes off Lucius, though, to return Draco’s gratitude. I couldn’t help the fiery rage that was coursing through my veins as I faced Lucius. 

Lucius swallowed shortly, but his steely demeanor remained unchanged.  _ So that was where Draco learned it _ . His eyes darted to his wife, then to Draco, who returned his gaze as if Lucius was utter scum. As Lucius breathed in deeply, a  _ crack _ sounded, and his body twisted out of existence as he Disapparated. 

_ That coward! _ Narcissa looked strangely unsurprised. “I told my mother that man was a bloody coward,” she muttered to herself. She looked at me, then, and even with the fighting going on behind me, I was tempted to take a step back as she studied me. I was sure I looked a mess; I certainly felt like one. My hair felt dirty and I was sure at least a bit of it was matted with blood, my entire body still ached as though I’d been hit by a train, and my arm was shaking as it struggled to repair itself from the repeated injuries it had suffered. 

All in all, I probably was quite an unpleasant sight. But I held my head high and kept my shoulders back, even though it ached, because honestly, I was rather tired of bowing to people today. 

“You love my son,” Narcissa said. It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway. Admitting it out loud to someone that wasn’t Draco was entirely terrifying, and even more so considering who Narcissa was, but I figured I’d wasted enough time hiding it. 

“Yes, I do,” I responded. “I-”

“No. I...must apologize to you. I have seen...I have started to see things in a new light, but now, we must focus on leaving,” Narcissa said. “We have time for apologies and righting wrongs after.”

I couldn’t help feeling rather surprised, and I found myself almost liking Narcissa. Draco was still standing by her side, and I waved down the invisible wall of magic I’d cast around him. He reached out and grabbed my hand in a grip that was nearly crushing my bones, but I squeezed his hand back as my heart jumped in my chest. It was such a small thing to be excited about, especially while we were literally less than ten feet away from Voldemort, but I couldn’t help it. 

Any small contact with Draco always set my heart racing, always made my skin prickle with heat, and I doubted that was ever going to change. Narcissa looked at our interlocked hands, and nodded once. “You realize-”

“Yes. It doesn’t matter to me,” Draco told her confidently. “It has...I have changed too, Mother. More than you know.”

A small smile danced across Narcissa’s rosy mouth, and affection shone in her eyes. “I am proud of you, my dear. Now, we must get going, and I mean it this time. We shall have time for all this emotional blubbering once we’re safe.” 

Arthur was still sparring with Bellatrix, though her wild hair was coming loose from its updo, and the look in her eye was more panic than joy. I’d never seen Arthur with such a stern look on his face, with such conviction as he threw spell after spell at Bellatrix with such speed that I could barely follow them. Narcissa drew her wand and cast a non-verbal hex that hit Bellatrix soundly, knocking her out cold. Her body thudded to the ground and Narcissa waved her wand again, causing ropes to appear and slither around Bellatrix’s body like tan snakes, tying her arms to her torso and her legs together. 

Arthur quickly picked up Bellatrix’s crooked wand and tucked it in his pocket. With obvious surprise, he said, “Thank you, Narcissa.”

Narcissa waved her hand, almost dismissing his thanks. “I’ve been wanting to do that to Bella since we were twelve. Really, it was more for me than anything.”

“Even still,” Arthur insisted. “Where is-Ron!”

Just then, Snape managed to fire a hex at Ron, and Ron was unable to dodge the dark jet of silvery light that shot towards him. Hermione let out a cry as the hex hit him in the left shoulder, burning through his shirt and immediately causing his skin to turn reddish purple as he cried out with pain. The hex was spreading quickly, down his left arm and his chest. Ron dropped to the ground, his breath short and pained. His body started shaking as the hex spread over his body and Hermione rushed to him, entirely forgetting Snape behind her. 

“Ron,” Hermione gasped, cradling his head in her arms. “Ron, Ron, come on, don’t-you’re okay! You’re okay.” Her voice was thick with tears, and even from where I was standing, I could see her hands shaking as she pulled him closer. 

Ron looked up at Hermione, tears starting to drip down her face. “‘Mione. ‘Mione, I love you,” Ron choked out, the hex now creeping up his throat, causing his face to contort with pain as he spoke. “You know that? Loved you since the day you-you told us you thought getting expelled was worse than dying.” Ron let out a shuddering laugh at the memory. “Just wish I realized it sooner. Just wish I had more time with you. I was so dense, wasn’t I? Couldn’t see my soulmate right in front of me even though you’d been my best friend for years.” 

“No, Ronald, no,” Hermione told him shakily. “Don’t- you’re not- come ON, Ronald, you can’t do this to me! I’ll-I’ll never forgive you if you leave-”

“That’s okay, ‘Mione,” Ron assured, smiling softly at his girlfriend, as though she was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. “I’ll always…”

I watched on with horror as Ron closed his eyes, his hand dropping to the ground from where it had hovered in the air, almost resting on Hermione’s cheek. Hermione let out a sound that made loss hit me so hard I couldn’t breathe. I could no longer see Ron’s chest rising and falling. 

“No, no, no,” Hermione insisted, searching Ron’s face. “No! No, this isn’t fair. I-I wanted more time. We  _ deserved _ more time.” Her voice was cracking with pain and interspersed with gasps as she tried to hold back the sobs that were causing her to shake. 

Hermione had shiny tears dripping down her face as she looked up from Ron to Snape, who was standing triumphantly a short distance away. The anger that erupted in Hermione was so strong sparks were beginning to dance around the ends of her hair, which I had only ever seen happen once before when Snape had gotten Professor Lupin fired our third year. 

Snape had the good sense to take a step back, but Hermione’s wrath was too large to escape. “You,” she growled, still holding Ron in her lap. “You foul, traitorous, murdering BASTARD!” 

Hermione, who apparently had been learning non-verbal spells (though that didn’t really surprise me) jabbed her wand at her former professor and he froze, dropping with a thud as Hermione’s perfected  _ Petrificus Totalus _ took hold of his body and immobilized him. 

She turned her attention back towards Ron, and I rushed to her side, dragging Draco with me. I dropped to my knees, sinking with a sound that meant I’d surely have bruises the next day, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was Ron lying still,  _ too still _ , in Hermione’s lap. Hermione’s wand bounced as it hit the floor, her hands coming to cup Ron’s freckled face. 

The hex was a nasty, sour shade of red, one that had what little food that remained in my stomach threatening to reappear. I couldn’t tell if Ron was breathing, and he wasn’t moving at all. I kept waiting for him to jump up and laugh at our shocked expressions, but he just kept lying there. Time almost seemed to freeze as I waited desperately for him to show us he was alright. 

Hot tears welled in my eyes as I looked down at one of my best friends in the world. As I looked down at one of my best friends in the world who I’d never get to see smile again, whose room would now always be empty at the Burrow. 

Whose hand on the Weasley’s family clock would no longer move. 

I couldn’t even think of anything to say; all I could do was look at Ron’s body, half covered with the hex. It didn’t feel  _ real _ . It didn’t feel like I was looking at my best friend lying on the ground, because it  _ couldn’t _ be. It had to be fake, didn’t it? Ron couldn’t...he couldn’t be...I refused to even think the word. If I thought the word, that would make it  _ real _ , and it wasn’t. Ron was alive, he was fine, he was just closing his eyes, right?

Arthur let out a wail as he came over to us, seeing his youngest son’s body prone in his girlfriend’s arms. “No, Ronald,” he choked out, his voice cracking with sorrow. “No, no, it- _ no _ .”

Arthur’s broken voice caused fresh sobs to tear through me as he stared in utter despair at his son. “Is he-he’s not-”

“I’m so sorry,” I managed to choke out.

Narcissa placed a steadying arm on his shoulder. “Arthur, go help Minerva and Harry.” Arthur went to protest but she said, “I know this curse, and I know how to fix it, but I have to do it now, and Draco has to help me. It takes two people, and we have to concentrate for the magic to work properly. You go help Harry, yes? If Draco and I start now, Ron might have a chance. We are losing time, though, and quickly. It may already be too late.”

Arthur looked incredibly reluctant, but he went over to McGonagall who was shielding Harry with her body as Voldemort advanced on the two of them. “Draco, help me,” Narcissa told her son. “My dear, you’re going to have to let him go now, alright?”

Hermione clung to Ron tighter, but I put a hand on her arm. “‘Mione, I promise they’re going to help. Please let them help,” I said, a sob cutting through my words. “Please, I can’t- Ron-”

Hermione clenched her jaw, looking distrustfully at Draco and Narcissa, but I let out another broken plea, and she let go of her grip on Ron. Narcissa knelt next to her, transferring Ron gently to the floor in front of her. Draco knelt down too, on the other side of Ron’s body, and with a grim look, they began. 

  
I wrapped a sore arm around Hermione as we watched the two work, waving their wands in an intricate pattern. The magic already seemed to be taking its toll on both mother and son, beads of sweat appearing on their hairlines as they cast spell after spell over Ron. It felt like my breath was cement in my lungs as I waited, waited for  _ anything  _ to happen. 


	40. A/N

sorry this isn’t a chapter but i just wanted to let you guys know that updates might be a little slower for the foreseeable future. like i mentioned my mental health is kinda ,,, terrible right now and on top of that i have school and work, and i’m still recovering from covid which has been really difficult. i’m still going be actively writing, but there might be more than a week between updates. hope you’re all doing well and your kind comments really mean the world to me!!! writing this story knowing there are people who are looking forward to it is just such a wonderful and indescribable feeling and i’m so grateful to all of you for supporting me and being so kind to this story and to me <3


	41. The Rescue Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally, an update! thank you for all the kind messages on my last update you guys are really the best <3 tbh i dont love this chapter but c'est la vie and all of that. i hope you all enjoy it! and again thank you so so much for your patience and kindness while i heal

Just as I had closed my eyes to shut out the heart-wrenching image of one of my best friends laying stiff and unmoving on the Malfoy’s dining room floor, Ron opened his mouth with a gasp, making all of us jump as he struggled to take in oxygen. Hermione let out a sob of relief as the color returned to Ron’s face, and I found myself unable to hold back tears again as I watched him sit up slowly with Narcissa’s help. 

Hermione sagged against me, her hands coming up to cover her mouth as she watched the boy that she loved take a breath, his eyes blinking open slowly. The hex had stopped spreading, but the color was still a ghastly shade of dark red. Draco sat back on his heels, looking thoroughly exhausted. Hermione crawled to Ron, her hands shaking as she reached out to touch his face, and I slid over to him, placing a hand on his back as he recovered from the monumental amounts of magic he’d just produced. Draco leaned into my touch a bit, causing sparks to skip up my arm. “Thank you,” I managed to get out. “I-thank you, Draco.”

Draco looked at me, and I realized that might’ve been one of the first times I’d ever genuinely thanked him for anything. “Of course,” he responded, his gray eyes bright despite the energy he’d just expended. “I may not like Weasel, but...but you do.” Those words made me feel something other than fear and pain for the first time in hours. I smiled softly at Draco, who returned it with a small uptilt of the corner of his own mouth. “I would do anything for-”

“Malfoy?” Ron interrupted, looking much better as the reddish purple stain on his skin was starting to fade into a less horrid pink. “You- no, sorry, you’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

Hermione shook her head, her eyes still red with the aftermath of tears. “I told you Ronald, I’m not. He was right above you when you came to, wasn’t he?” She brushed a stray strand of red hair from his sweat-plastered forehead, her touch gentle and slow. “If it weren’t for him and Mrs. Malfoy,” she broke off with a shuddering breath. “But you’re fine, you’re here, you’re fine,” she finished, reassuring herself more than she was reassuring him. 

“Yeah, but…” Ron trailed off, looking at Narcissa, then Draco, then Hermione. “Are you  _ sure _ I’m not dead? That’s the only way this makes any sense to me.”

“You’re alive, Weasel, but I’d gladly assist you if you’d like not to be,” Draco drawled smoothly. “Really, the very least you could do is say thanks. I saved your life.” He leaned even further into my hand that I’d placed on his back, as though the effort of just speaking was still a bit too much for him. 

Ron looked incredulously at Draco. “Stop acting like it’s insane for me to be so surprised about this. You’ve always been aw-”

“People change,” Draco cut in. “Stop being ungrateful, would you?”

Ron looked at me, then at my hand that was resting on Draco. “Wait. No, sorry, this is- what?” He shook his head, like he was trying to clear it. “That’s it, I’ve gone bloody mental, I’m sure of it. Nothing makes sense.”

Draco tensed beneath my hand. “Look, Weasley, I just saved your fucking life. Accept it, alright? People can fucking change, you bloody arse,” he snapped. 

“Yes, people can, but not you,” Ron argued. “You’ve been on Voldemort’s bloody side since you could walk, so excuse me for being shocked that someone who attacked and bullied me and my friends would save me. You’ve called me a fucking blood traitor more times than I can count, and don’t even get me fucking  _ started _ on the shit that you’ve called Hermione and Elaine. Why the fuck would you suddenly have a change of heart?”

Draco’s fists clenched, and it was like I could see the anger erupting in him. He buzzed with fury as he looked at Ron, who was glaring at him with a colder expression than I ever thought was possible for the red-headed boy. The bitter anger raging silently between them was palpable. I felt a bit angry at Ron myself, even though what he had said had been mostly true. Draco could change; he had changed. But I was really the one only who had seen that, wasn’t I?

“Enough, the both of you. We can talk about everything later,” Narcissa said. “Right now, we’ve got to get Harry and Elaine out of here.”

Of course we needed to get Harry out of here; Voldemort would go to any length to see to it that Harry didn’t leave alive. Narcissa had added my name too, though. Because they’d all come here to save me. I suddenly realized that if anyone got hurt, it would be directly my fault. If Ron had died, that would’ve entirely been because of me. Well, that wasn’t an entirely soul-crushing thought, was it? 

Hermione and I helped Ron to his feet, his limbs still shaking as the hex slowly left his system. I didn’t quite have the time to process just how much it meant that Narcissa had saved Ron, but I felt more gratitude towards the woman than I ever thought was possible. 

Draco stood on my other side, standing close enough that his arm was brushing against mine. “Anyone have any brilliant ideas on how to get out of here?” His question was punctuated with a yell from McGonagall, who had passed Harry off to Arthur when he’d come running over to help her. Draco looked so calm, so unbothered by the nightmare taking place around him, that I almost envied his incredible propensity for masking his emotions. Surely, he was just as terrified inside as everyone else, but on the outside, he looked like a statue of an ancient god. 

He looked so strong and unafraid that for a moment, I wanted to collapse into his arms and let him hold me as I broke down from all the horrifying things I’d been put through lately. I’d never wanted anyone to hold me like that before, but with Draco, things were different. Everything was different when it came to Draco. With everyone else in my life, I felt like I needed to be strong and pretend that I was always alright, but Draco had seen me at my worst this past year more than anyone else had. That used to embarrass me completely, and I suspected that it always would, at least a little bit, but he had never judged me, at least not for my emotions. 

Draco hadn’t always been kind; neither had I. But I’d shown the worst parts of myself to him by accident so many times, and he’d never run. He’d given me shit for it, and he’d made me feel angry and like I wanted to punch something, usually him, but he’d never run. Everything that I dished out, Draco gave right back to me, and no one else could quite understand that dynamic like the two of us. I  _ needed _ that at the times where I felt like lashing out because everything was falling apart, and so had he. 

It felt like we’d finally fit into the slot we were meant to be in, but we’d only had that for a short time. If nothing else, I just wanted a bit more time with him. It was stupid and so bloody sappy, but I wanted to learn things about him that no one else knew. I wanted to know what he looked like right when he woke up, and what he sounded like when he was tired, and how he took his coffee in the morning. 

Thinking about such mundane, normal things while I was stuck in Malfoy Manor felt so out of place, but I couldn’t help my mind from wandering. There was something about Draco that always distracted me. Focusing around him had proven to be incredibly frustrating and difficult at best. He was just so alluring, so addicting, like every time he walked into a room, his presence seemed to overwhelm everything else. He was charismatic; not in a usual, charming way, but in a heart-stopping, half-terrifying way that made my heart jump like a rabbit trying to escape my chest. 

McGonagall was pointing her wand at Voldemort, her arm and hand steady as she looked at the wizard in front of her with so much contempt I was half-tempted to turn and walk the other way so that I wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire of her wrath. “Dumbledore might deal with you with grace, but Tom, I know you,” McGonagall told him steadily. “You forget, don’t you, that to me, to Dumbledore, you are nothing but that misguided child we taught at Hogwarts.”

“Do not call me by that name,” Voldemort hissed. 

“Does it scare you, then?” McGonagall asked. “That I do not fear you? Not like everyone else does. Not like your loyal followers, who scattered the moment the news broke that Harry had defeated you?”

“You think that you can distract me? You’re a fool,” Voldemort said, his yellowing eyes flashing with vitriol. “I will take so much pleasure in taking your life, Minerva. You always were a stain on Hogwarts, just like Albus.”

“And you think you are any better?” McGonagall asked, pacing slightly as she kept her wand trained on Voldemort. “You have been the sole cause for many lives lost. It is a wonder that you have any soul left at all.”

Voldemort grinned, the light of the moon illuminating his browning teeth. “And what a service I have done for our world! There are fewer thieves, fewer impure and unworthy Muggles walking around and parading as one of us.” 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Narcissa motion Arthur and Harry over with a small flick of her wrist. At the same time, McGonagall began moving, angling her body so that Voldemort could no longer see Arthur and Harry as they hurried towards us, darting from shadow to shadow. Draco’s hand slipped into mine, and instantly, I tightened my grip, making sure that he couldn’t pull away. Feeling him standing so close helped steady me. It was such a small point of contact, and god knew I wanted so much more, but it was enough to make me feel grounded. I kept my face free of any anxiety, but my insides felt like they were being prodded with a hot iron. Voldemort was closing in on McGonagall, a vile, broken, unhuman smile stretching across his pale face. McGonagall wasn’t my Head of House, but she was as important to Hogwarts as Dumbledore was. Losing her would crumble the foundation of Hogwarts, and I was sure that many of my friends wouldn’t ever fully recover from the loss of such a strong, kind, intelligent witch. 

Harry and Arthur finally reached us, Harry’s face beaded with sweat. His hands were twitching nervously at his side, and when he saw Ron, his shoulder still red and inflamed, his eyes widened. “What the hell happened to you?” He looked his best friend up and down, worry etched on his face as he took in the damage that still remained from the hex. “You look like someone bloody beat you up!”

Ron let out a soft, half-hearted chuckle, gesturing to his injured shoulder and neck. “Nearly died, mate, to be honest with you. It was-”

“Hush!” Narcissa whispered. “We only have a few moments to leave. Arthur, you take Ron and Hermione. Harry and Elaine, come with me. Draco, are you able to Apparate, my dear?” Draco nodded, and I felt him release my hand. The lack of warmth from his slender hands felt as cold as ice as he stepped away from me. I wanted to reach out for him again, but I didn’t want to seem so childish and needy, so I moved closer to Narcissa and Harry. 

Stepping away from Draco felt like pulling on one side of an already-taut rope, like every inch away was more difficult than the last. I’d spent so long fighting the want to touch him, and now that I finally could, now that I could reach out and grab his hand or run my fingers through his hair without consequence, it was being taken away from me. 

It was just for a moment, yes, but something inside me was incredibly worried it wouldn’t be for only a moment. I didn’t want to lose him so soon after I’d gotten him. Or at least, I was nearly sure I’d gotten him. Anxiety surged in me, and I did my best to push it down. Draco was mine. He was. I needed to stop second-guessing that. It was only making things more complicated. And god, I was so fucking tired of complicated. I just wanted things to be simple.

“I know that we cannot Apparate inside of Hogwarts, so the Forbidden Forest will have to do. Arthur, you know where the protective spells stop, don’t you?” Narcissa asked Arthur, who kept looking worriedly at his youngest son, like he might collapse at any moment. 

“Yes,” Arthur answered. “I helped Albus reinforce them at the beginning of last September. Even if we somehow go too far, it should just push us a few miles back into the forest.”

Narcissa nodded once, a stiff, firm movement. “We must return and alert Albus at once. If you all-”

“Wait,” Hermione interrupted, her arm slung around Ron to help keep him upright as he slowly regained his strength. “What about Professor McGonagall? We can’t just leave her here alone!” I had to agree with her. Leaving McGonagall here alone to face Voldemort felt wrong. She came to save me, and I was just supposed to leave her here? I knew she was one of the most skilled witches alive, but even still, I wanted to make sure she got out safely. If she died, it would be no one’s fault but my own. 

Narcissa pursed her lips, looking grimly at the young witch in front of her. “Hermione, my dear, we can, and we must. She would not have us stay and risk our lives for her, would she? You know her better than I do. She knew the risks of coming here, and she was willing to do so to make sure that Elaine was rescued. That is our main task.”

Hermione hesitated, glancing at her teacher who was still facing Voldemort. “No, she wouldn’t,” Hermione finally answered, her voice small and resigned. 

“Hermione, I know that you don’t want to leave her,” Harry said, looking as distraught at the thought of leaving McGonagall as she did. “But we all agreed before we came that getting Elaine out alive was the entire point of coming here. We knew...we knew that things might happen.” Hermione’s jaw tightened and her nose twitched, which told me she was close to tears. I didn’t blame her. Hearing Harry say that they all agreed that they would be willing to sacrifice themselves just to save me made my throat and nose burn. 

They’d all come here knowing that they’d be putting themselves in danger, and yet, they’d still come. I felt so unworthy of their sacrifices, even in a hypothetically. I wasn’t worth anyone losing their lives. Ron had come close to losing his, and that had nearly ripped me apart in the few short minutes that he’d been unconscious. I sounded so fucking ungrateful, even in my own head, and I’d been silently begging for someone to rescue me since the moment I’d gone through the Vanishing Cabinet, but I hadn’t thought about what that might actually mean. My life wasn’t worth someone else losing theirs, but there was nothing I could do about that now. 

“Narcissa, we need to go,” Arthur urged her, taking Ron and Hermione’s hands in his own. Narcissa grabbed my hand in one of hers and Harry’s in the other. I looked at Draco, whose eyes were already on me. I knew I was going to see him in less than a moment, but I was still afraid. His steely eyes were searching my face, and I did my best to conceal my worry from him, but I knew he would see it anyway. Draco always saw straight through me, no matter how hard I tried to hide. 

I forced my mouth into a small smile, trying to convey to Draco that I was okay, that things were going to be okay. Being apart from Draco when things were so uncertain felt like the worst idea in the world. And, as much as I hated to admit it, I was scared of Apparating after what happened last time. I was in much better shape then than I was now, and I had gotten splinched that time. 

Unfortunately, Narcissa didn’t give me time to think anymore on the matter, because I felt the familiar and sickening twisting sensation of being Apparated hit me faster than I could blink. My stomach flew up into my throat and my head felt like it was being squeezed by something large and heavy. Within a mere moment, the pressure and spinning stopped, and my feet slammed into the ground. My knees buckled on the impact as my stomach lurched. Dropping to my knees, I waited for the nausea to pass. I knew that theoretically Apparition shouldn’t be so horrible, but between how much blood I’d lost and my body not having a single moment to heal from everything it had been put through, it felt like I was going to vomit or pass out. Again. 

God, I was really getting sick of that feeling. I wasn’t a huge fan of throwing up (obviously. I’m not bloody mental), but I’d definitely gotten my fill of feeling nauseous today. I would be entirely fine if I never felt sick again. I heard the crunch of leaves behind me, indicating that at least one other part of our party had arrived. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Arthur, Hermione, and Ron standing against the dark night sky, Ron leaning against Hermione so heavily it looked like she was about to drop him. 

My heart began picking up pace when each second that passed did not bring Draco. He should have been right behind us; he should have arrived just as we did. Where was he? Had he gotten stuck? Did he get-

A wave of sickness hit me, and I had to squeeze my eyes close in order to swallow down the bile that was burning the back of my throat. He was fine. He had to be. Maybe he just overshot, or he Apparated too close to the magical barrier, and it bounced him back somewhere further into the Forbidden Forest. It surprised me just how worried I was about him, but I couldn’t help it. I had thought...I had thought that we were going to be safe finally, after so many hellish hours of being trapped in Malfoy Manor. I thought we’d finally get to talk. It seemed so much longer ago than it actually was, but I hadn’t got to hear his response after what I said in the Room of Requirement. 

My body and mind felt so bloody overwhelmed, and Draco being late was only the cherry on top. It shouldn’t have affected me so much, but I couldn’t figure out how to think straight. Braced on my knees, my hands began shaking as the feeling of Draco’s absence seemed to expand and grow until it was all I could think about. 

Finally,  _ finally, _ I heard the rush of air that indicated someone had Apparated, and I lept to my feet, seeing a familiar flash of white-blond hair out of the corner of my eye. McGonagall was with Draco, her grey hair falling out of her normally tight chignon, her face creased with concern. Her expression made me stop in my tracks, and I looked at Draco, his arm around her shoulder. 

I thought he was just leaning on her so that they could Apparate together, but then I saw the rush of crimson flowing from his side, and it was like everything else faded away, leaving only Draco’s injured and broken body in front of me. His white shirt was charred and black, and I could barely tell the burnt material of it apart from the burnt state of his torso. Frantically, I tore my eyes away from Draco and gaped at McGonagall. “What happened?” I asked her, my voice cracking with worry.

_ I knew it _ , I thought, panicking at the sight of Draco’s half-lidded eyes. His chest was barely moving.  _ He _ was barely moving.  _ I shouldn’t have left him. I should’ve told Narcissa Draco and I could Side-Along. I shouldn’t have left him. I should’ve stayed with him. _

I heard swearing and gasps behind me as everyone else realized why Draco was slumped over and unmoving, but all I could pay attention to was the tightness in McGonagall’s face as she spoke. “As you all Apparated, Mr. Malfoy noticed Severus getting up. I didn’t see everything that happened, but it was clear that he was intent on attacking me while I was focused on Voldemort. Mr. Malfoy pushed me out of the way right as Severus managed to cast a Blasting Curse. The moment he knocked into me, I Apparated us, but it appears I wasn’t quick enough to clear Mr. Malfoy completely from the path of the curse.”

McGonagall’s voice was shakier than I’d ever heard it in my six years at Hogwarts, and that frightened me more than much of what had transpired over the last handful of hours. Draco had- he’d  _ saved _ McGonagall. He’d pushed her out of the way. Even though he’d never respected her, even though he could’ve just left when he saw Snape getting up, he stayed. Admiration for Draco’s bravery hit me so hard I could barely see straight. He’d been willing to sacrifice his own life so that McGonagall could stay alive. 

Ron, Hermione, and Harry looked at Draco with varying expressions of shock and disbelief as McGonagall recounted her story. “You mean, Malfoy saved you?” Harry asked. “On purpose?”

“Yes, Mr. Potter, he did.” 

“No way,” Ron said. “Why? No offense, Professor,” he added quickly. “Just...why would Malfoy do something like that?” 

McGonagall’s stern eyes landed on me. “I believe Mr. Malfoy has found something worth fighting for.”

Half of me wanted to cling to him so tightly no one could tear me away, and the other half of me wanted to punch him for being so stupidly heroic. “But he’s- he’s alive, right? I mean-” I felt my knees jerk as they trembled and locked while I took in the state of Draco’s body. It was bad. God, it was  _ so _ bad. I could barely comprehend just how much damage there was to his entire side, spanning from his armpit to his hip. My vision spun with black spots, and I had the faint notion that perhaps I was going into shock. 

“It would be best for us to get to Madam Pomfrey’s as soon as possible,” McGonagall answered vaguely. 

That meant no, then. Draco was not alright. How could he be? All things considered, the very fact that he was still alive was a miracle. Getting hit straight on with a Blasting curse wasn’t something anyone had ever survived, and even though it seemed to only have nicked his side, it still was a hell of a hit to take. The ring surrounding the spot where he got hit was entirely black and charred, with the rest of the impact site being a shiny, bloodied shade of red. The smell of burning flesh hit me, filling my senses with its rancid, sour smell, making me turn and retch as I tried to clear the scent from where it landed heavy inside my mouth and nose. The last thing I remembered before my eyes fluttered shut and everything went dark was thinking,  _ it’s all my fault _ . 

~

When I awoke, my eyes felt heavy and stuck shut, and it took me a good few minutes before I was actually able to pull them all the way open. My throat was dry, making me wince as I tried to swallow. I was aware of pain radiating from my arm, my head was pounding, and my entire body felt heavy and sore. 

Basically, everything fucking hurt. 

Peeling my eyes open, I blinked a few times as I tried to make sense of my surroundings. There were long shadows on the ceiling that were tinged with burnt orange; looking out of the long windows that were on the wall across from me, I saw that the sun was starting its slow descent behind the green hills that surrounded Hogwarts. 

_ Hogwarts _ . I nearly cried with joy as I realized I was safely back at the place that had become like a second home to me over the past six years. It hadn’t all been a dream; I’d actually been rescued. Yes, I was back at Hogwarts, and-  _ Draco _ . My heart dropped as I recalled the smell of burnt flesh, Draco’s body slumped against Professor McGonagall’s as she struggled to keep him upright. Draco, I had to find Draco and see if he was alright. Sitting up, the pain in my head flared into a blinding agony, and I immediately bent over the side of the bed and promptly threw up. There was nothing in my stomach, though, so all it ended up being was me pathetically retching and gagging as acid burnt my nose and mouth. 

“Oh, dear,” Madam Pomfrey tutted as she walked over to me. “You must lie down. You are in no shape to get up just yet.” She fluffed up my pillows, guiding me back down until I was lying completely in my bed again. “Let’s take a look at that arm, shall we?”

She pulled back the crisp white sheets of the bed I was lying in, igniting a small flame in the lantern hanging on the wall above me with a gentle wave of her hand. Gently, Madam Pomfrey examined my arm, turning it slowly and carefully so that she could look at it fully. A sharp twinge ran through my arm as she did, and I tried to hide the quiet gasp of pain that left my mouth. “So sorry, my dear,” Madam Pomfrey said kindly. “But it looks as though it is healing nicely! It will take a few more days to heal all the way through, but you should be good as new in no time.”

I looked down at my arm for the first time since waking up, and I was met with a puckered pink-and-red nearly healed scab running the length of my upper arm, curling slightly around the appendage as it traveled down towards my elbow. Madam Pomfrey saw the look of surprise on my face and patted my arm gently. “I know that it doesn’t look very pleasant, but it was the best I could do. If we had been able to treat it right when...but no matter. We cannot change the past. All things considered, it reacted quite well to the Dittany I applied.”

“It’ll scar,” I said, my voice scratchy and hoarse. It wasn’t really a question, because I already sort of knew the answer. Even with magical medicine, splinching wounds were difficult to heal, and they almost always left scars. 

Madam Pomfrey nodded. “I’m afraid so. I did what I could, but so much time had already passed.”

“Thank you,” I told her. “At least it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”

She smiled once more at me. It was a sweet smile, one that reminded me of Mrs. Weasley. “Exactly right, my dear. If you apply the salve I mixed up for you, it should be nothing more than a pink line in no time.” It was a bit of a relief, as vain as I felt for thinking that. I already had one nasty scar on my arm to deal with. I didn’t want to add another one. “How are you feeling, Ms. Adler?”

“Tired,” I replied honestly. “Everything just sort of... hurts. Especially my head.” The longer I kept my eyes open, the more the pounding ache had increased. 

Madam Pomfrey handed me a glass of water that had been sitting on the table by the side of my bed. “It seems you hit your head quite hard at some point. The bruising on your cheek and forehead should go away within a few days, but you will have to stay out of classes and the like for at least a week. I don’t want you straining yourself. You need to heal, and all that light and sound will do nothing but lengthen the healing process.”

“A week? But what about all my classes? I have to study for-” I protested, but stopped when the loud level of my voice made my ears ring with pain and vision swim. “Shit,” I whispered. My face heated when I realized I’d just sworn in front of Madam Pomfrey, but for my sake, she pretended as though she hadn’t heard it. 

“I will alert your professors, and you will be given extra time or be excused from any tests or finals you may miss. Your health is more important. Right now, though, you need more rest.” Madam Pomfrey went over to the shelves behind her nurse’s station, picking out two small vials and bringing them over to me. “Here, a dreamless sleeping draught, and something for the pain. Take those, and we will see how you feel when you wake.”

Lifting my arm took more effort than I liked, but I took the bottles from her, taking the pain potion, then the sleeping potion. The bitter taste made me pull a disgusted face, but I swallowed them quickly. As I laid back down, I suddenly remembered that I still had no idea where Draco was, or how he was. “Wait! Draco, is he-”

“Sleep, dear, and we will talk in the morning,” was all that Madam Pomfrey said. Before I could protest, I felt the potions taking hold of me, and I drifted off into darkness once more. This time, it was a pleasant, warm darkness that seemed to welcome me with open arms. 


	42. Forgiven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it my loves! we are nearing the end. theres going to be maybe two or three chapters more, and then that is it for choice's curse. thinking about it ending is so strange because ive been writing this story for almost six months and im honestly really sad to see it end but ! i will end the dramatics there because we've still got a bit more to go! enjoy <3

The next time I opened my eyes, it was nearly midday, the warm spring sun high in the sky. This time, I felt much less groggy and aching, though my head was already beginning to pound. My arm, much to my relief, no longer hurt to twist and turn it. The scabbed brown line I had seen last time I’d been conscious was now a pink line. It was noticeable, but it wasn’t viciously visible. Really, if anyone just glanced over my arm without a second thought, they might not notice it at all. 

When I sat up this time, I took my time, easing myself up vertebrae by vertebrae, so as to not repeat the vomiting incident that occured last time. My head spun faintly, but that also could have been from laying down for such a long period of time. It had to have been at least a full day since I had gotten back to Hogwarts, but beyond that, I had no clue just how much time had passed. Once I was fully sitting up, I looked around to see that one other person was in the hospital wing with me, but I couldn’t see who. 

My heart thudded as I realized it might be Draco, and I pulled my legs out from the confines of the crisp white linen that covered me, setting my bare feet gingerly on the cold stone floor. Madam Pomfrey, ever the watchful eye, noticed me trying to get up and came over in a whirl of tutting. “Careful, my dear,  _ careful _ ,” she chided, but did not try to stop me. “Your body may still be weak. You put it through quite a lot.”

“I feel much better,” I assured her, feeling my legs tingle as my blood had to pump a bit harder to get back up to my heart. “Please, can you tell me where Draco is?” I had to know if he was alright. 

Madam Pomfrey looked at me solemnly. “He is just over there, but he was incredibly injured when he arrived, and he hasn’t woken since he got here. It may be...it may be some time before his body is able to let him wake up.”

“But he’s okay, right? I mean…” I trailed off, remembering the vile scent of burnt flesh and the blackened, charred state of his torso. A horrible, twisting wave of dread lapped at my feet, causing my stomach to drop as nausea hit me.

“He will be, yes,” Madam Pomfrey said. “But again, it will take time. Things may be...they may be different. He will need a lot of patience, and for the next week or so, a lot of help. Injuries from curses are much harder to heal than regular ones. If it had been a non-magical burn, he would already be up and walking, but because it was caused by magic, dark magic, the healing process is much more difficult and much more sensitive.” 

It calmed the panic swelling in my chest and throat to know that Draco, eventually, would be okay. The amount of sheer fear and panic that had washed over me the moment my brain had registered he was hurt was enough to make my hands shake even now. “And Ron?”

Madam Pomfrey smiled. “Already back to normal, for the most part. Whoever healed him saved his life, without a doubt, and likely helped prevent much of the scarring that he might’ve had otherwise. I suspect his shoulder will ache at odd times, and there may always be a small amount of scarring, but nothing life-altering.” 

“Can I- I mean, is it okay-”

The kind nurse nodded. “Yes, my dear, but like I said, he isn’t awake. You are welcome to sit by him though, at least for a bit. You still need rest.”

“Thank you,” I told her, but it was sort of tossed over my shoulder as I was already heading slowly towards Draco’s bed. My steps were strange and shuffling, my legs still sore from Bellatrix’s curses. 

Draco was lying on his bed, so still I had to stop myself from checking that he was breathing before I saw his chest moving up and down ever so slightly. He was nearly the same color as the white sheets that covered the pillow his head was resting on. His sheets were pulled up only to his waist, so as to not irritate the gauzy bandages covering a good majority of his torso. 

As I sat down in the chair next to his bed, I could smell the herbal scent of the poultice Madam Pomfrey had packed on his wound before covering it up. It wasn’t his usual smell, the smell that I had grown to know so well, and before I knew it, tears were welling up in my eyes. Draco was alive, he was here, and yet everything was so  _ wrong _ . He was too pale, too still, and he smelled entirely different. I wanted my Draco, the one that smelled warm, like amber. I didn’t understand why the strange smell was making me so upset, but I couldn’t hold back the sob that tore through my chest when I thought about the drastic difference. 

The sadness hit me, drowning me like a wave during a storm. I was tired of being strong and pretending like I was alright. I wanted Draco to wake up, to let me collapse against him as I let out the sobs ripping at my chest. I wanted to burrow into him, to breathe in the smell of  _ him _ , to have him tell me that everything was okay and that we were  _ safe _ . Draco was okay, so I didn’t understand why I could barely hold back the tears that were burning my throat. He was okay, I was okay, everyone was  _ okay _ . Why did I feel like it wasn’t? 

I took one of his hands in my own, intertwining my fingers with his long, slender ones whose touch I knew like the back of my hand. A pang of longing hit me so hard that I could barely pull in enough oxygen to breathe. There was nothing I wouldn’t give in that moment to have Draco wake up, to have him roll his eyes at how dramatic I was being even as he pressed his hand to my face and pulled me in for a kiss that would make my toes curl and my eyes flutter shut. 

It had never hit me harder than it did in that moment just how young we were and just how unfair life had been to both of us. Whining about life being unfair never got anyone anywhere, but as I looked at Draco, I couldn’t help it. Life had been so fucking unkind to him and I, even though we’d done nothing to deserve it. Even though Draco had been horrendously unkind, and had said and done a lot of things that were so entirely wrong, he still didn’t deserve the lot he’d been given. We were nothing more than kids who had been pulled into a war against our will. A war that we both had no business fighting in at all. 

I hated the fact that Draco would never be able to forget the nightmares he’d lived through, just like I would never be able to erase the scars from my skin. Draco hadn’t always been a good person, but when he’d started trying to be, everything had come crashing down. With everything I had, I hoped that the time we’d been given wasn’t all the time that we would get together. There was no telling what the future looked like for us now. Draco and his mother had abandoned the cause they’d devoted their entire lives to. Where did that leave them? There was no way they’d be able to return to Malfoy Manor, not until it had been made safe again, and Voldemort would surely have already placed targets on both of them for deserting the cause. 

Would Draco even still want me when he’d seen what being with me in any sense had done to him and to his life, his family? Would he even think I was worth any of that? I wanted that answer to be yes, but the only person who could actually tell me if it was or not was lying unconscious on the bed in front of me. My eyes felt heavy with sleep, even though I had already slept for such a long time. Leaning back in my chair, one hand still grasping Draco’s, I watched him for hours, watched his chest push up and drag down. 

I’d told him I was in love with him. I’d said those five words, but I don’t think either of us understood exactly how much I meant those words. The threat of losing him made me realize that the love that burned bright and strong for Draco like a torch in my chest was much larger and unyielding than I thought. So desperately did I need Draco to wake up so that I could begin proving to him just how wholly and completely I loved him. And, entirely selfishly, I needed him to wake up so I could hear if he felt for me what I felt for him. 

It was so very possible that he did, but I needed to hear it from  _ him _ . Hearing a confession, unbridled by family ties and reluctance and bitterness, was something that I longed for, that I  _ ached _ for, more than I’d ever longed or ached for anything before. It was strange, I realized, that I had gotten over our past without even realizing it. Near-death situations had a funny way of doing that, I guess. His actions weren’t erased, especially the ones towards others, but Draco had my forgiveness. I had seen, more than anyone else, that he was changing. That he knew that he had been wrong, that his father had been feeding him lies and controlling his actions much more than one could see at first glance. 

Even still, Draco’s actions weren’t justified or excused, but I knew him in a way that no one else in the world did. So perhaps it would take time for everyone else, but in my eyes, Draco had my forgiveness a million times over. I had seen the little ways Draco tried to right the wrongs of himself and others. He was growing. 

The door to the hospital wing creaked open and I turned to see Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushing in, frantically asking Madam Pomfrey something. She answered as she gestured over to me, and the three of them practically ran over to me, looks of relief and happiness on their faces. 

“Elaine!” Harry exclaimed. I jumped to my feet as he approached, and before I knew it, he was wrapping his arms around me so tightly it knocked the breath right out of my lungs. Moisture seeped through the fabric of my shirt, and I realized Harry was crying, which made my tears reappear once more. “Oh my god, you’re okay! You’re- fuck, you’re okay! You’re okay,” he repeated, his voice shaky as he cried. “When I realized you were gone, I-I didn’t know what I was going to do. I had no idea where you’d gone, but I knew-I knew it couldn’t have been good because you wouldn’t just leave Hogwarts, and I’ve never felt so fucking scared in my entire fucking life. You fucking terrified me.” 

I returned Harry’s embrace, letting myself enjoy the feeling of someone holding me, even if it wasn’t the person I wanted most. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, my voice cracking pathetically. “I didn’t- I mean, I’d hoped you would come for me, but I-how did you even know I was gone?”

Harry pulled back, letting Ron and Hermione embrace me, Hermione’s curls smothering my face. “The map,” Harry answered. “I checked it like I do every night and you weren’t anywhere. I thought...I thought maybe you were in the Room of Requirement, so I checked there, but you weren’t. I immediately went to McGonagall, and she asked if Snape was anywhere on the map. I don’t know how she knew about the map, but I pulled it out and we looked and he was gone. So was Draco,” Harry said, his eyes darting to his still form on the bed. “And McGonagall put two and two together. If all three of you were gone at the same time, and you’d been spending time with Malfoy so much lately, she figured you were all at the same place. Snape told her and Dumbledore that Voldemort was staying at Malfoy Manor, so she Floo called Mr. Weasley, because he was on duty for the Order last night, or two nights ago, I guess, and we all came as quickly as we could.”

Ron nodded, and I noticed the movement was stiff. His neck was still pink and red, but still better than it had been at Malfoy Manor. “She put up a hell of fight, telling us we weren’t allowed to come along. We wouldn’t hear of it, though. Hermione...Hermione told her that if she didn’t take us along, she would just take us there herself, since she’d already learned to Apparate. That last bit was news to me,” Ron laughed softly, his eyes shining with admiration as he looked at his girlfriend. “But McGonagall finally gave in. She told us before we went that it was dangerous and that if it came down to it, we might be injured, or even die. But obviously, we all already knew that and coming for you wasn’t even a question.”

“You almost did both, you bloody idiot,” Hermione added softly, her voice thick with rueful sorrow. “I would’ve saved you and killed you myself for being so stupidly brave if Malfoy and his mum hadn’t beaten me to it.”

Ron pulled Hermione to him, placing a gentle kiss to the top of her wild mane of hair. “I know, love. I know.” As I watched my friends, I savored the knowledge that at least they were alright. Much was wrong, but my friends were alive and we were all together. 

It also made my chest tighten sorrowfully as I realized I wished for Draco’s arm to be wrapped around me like that, holding me like I was the most precious thing in the world. The adoration and pure love present in Ron’s eyes made my heart ache in the most bittersweet way imaginable. “I can’t believe you all came for me,” I confessed quietly, feeling that ugly fear lurching in my gut that I felt while sitting in the Malfoy’s cellar, alone and in the dark. “I didn’t- I hoped, you know, but…” I couldn’t quite voice that I had thought that either no one would notice, or if they did, that no one would think I was worth the risk to save. 

My friends’ faces all dropped, pinching with sadness. “Of course we did,” Hermione replied, as if it was the only possible thing they could’ve done. “I’m just grateful we made it in time. I thought we would be too late. We’d no idea how long you’d been gone, or if you were even at Malfoy Manor.”

“Thankfully, McGonagall never liked Snape much, and she’d been keeping a close eye on him for years. If she had just blindly trusted Dumbledore like everyone else, I don’t know if we would’ve ever found you,” Harry said softly, as if he were thinking about if things had gone that route instead. 

“We should’ve listened to you, Harry. About Snape, I mean,” Hermione admitted. 

Ron nudged her gently. “You mean,  _ you _ should have listened to him. I’ve not liked that greasy git since the Sorting ceremony our first year.” Hermione rolled her eyes at him, but pressed in closer to him. “I wonder what’s going to happen to him. There’s no way Dumbledore will forgive him after we tell him what Snape did, will he?”

Harry sighed. “I don’t know. Dumbledore has forgiven him for a lot of things, things that Snape doesn’t deserve forgiveness for even now. I don’t understand Dumbledore. Every time something happens, somehow he has some sort of part in it, and I don’t...I don’t know what to think of him anymore.”

Harry looked incredibly nervous as he confessed his mistrust in one of his most beloved mentors, but I had to agree with him. I didn’t like that Dumbledore continually had such a large part in everything going on, even the terrible things. “There’s still a lot that I don’t think the lot of you know about.”

“We can talk about that another time, though,” Hermione suggested. “For now, let’s just enjoy the fact that everyone is okay. That everything is okay, at least for right now. You’ve been through too much over the past two days, Elaine. You deserve a break from all of this.”

The lingering fright and painful memories that threatened to surface were difficult to shove down and ignore, but I did my best. “It’s really alright. It could’ve been worse.”

Harry let out a choked laugh, one that was underlined with heavy emotion. “How did I know that’s what you were going to say?” He shook his head, his eyes bright as tears welled up within them. “You...fuck, I mean you got fucking splinched  _ and _ went head to head with Voldemort, and just that is fucking terrifying. We don’t even know what actually happened to you. Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t tell anyone other than McGonagall and Flitwick, and I’m guessing even she doesn’t know everything. You were...I mean, they kidnapped you and kept you there, and you say you’re bloody alright?” Harry laughed again, tears distorting the bitter sound. “You don’t always have to be alright. In fact, it worries me much more hearing you say that you are than if you were a complete fucking mess. I think you’ve earned the right to have a bit of a breakdown by now.”

I hadn’t realized that they didn’t actually know what had happened to me. They knew bits and pieces, according to Harry, but they didn’t know about Bellatrix using the Cruciatus curse, or being locked in the cellar, or Voldemort telling Snape to kill me in order to redeem himself. Sitting back down in the chair next to Draco’s bed, I decided that telling the three of them at the very least was a good place to start, because I knew that there were many more questions coming my way in the near future. If I talked about it first with my friends, perhaps the rest of the times people asked for the story wouldn’t be so bad. “Bellatrix used the Cruciatus curse on me,” I began, finding it hard to make my voice louder than a cracked whisper as the memory of pure agony ripped through me, making my body ache at the thought. I heard small gasps from my friends, but I continued, knowing that if I stopped, I wouldn’t be able to start again. “More than once,” I added, unable to stop the rueful laugh that escaped. “It...the pain- there’s no way to-”

“Lainy, you don’t have to-” Harry started. 

“No.” I shook my head. “Please. I just- I have to talk about it, okay? I can- I can handle it.” His nod was slow, unconvinced, but I proceeded. “It feels like every single centimetre of your body is being torn apart and set on fire and it...it doesn’t stop right away, after the curse stops. It- it keeps going, for minutes afterwards. Just burning and aching and hurting.” Hermione placed a comforting hand on my shoulder and I leaned into it, just the tiniest bit. A pit gaped open in my stomach, leaking out dread and filling my chest and throat with it.

“Voldemort...he knew about me, I guess. I accidentally overheard Snape talking to him one day, and Snape caught me and he locked me in his office and interrogated me.” As I spoke, I realized just how much my friends didn’t know. “Draco was there, and before you say anything, he didn’t hurt me. He actually helped me. He told Snape he would Obliviate me, and Snape had to leave, so he thought that Draco did it, but he didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you tell us about that?” Harry asked, hurt threaded through his voice. 

I raised an eyebrow. “You and I haven’t exactly been on speaking terms since Christmas, have we?” Harry looked down guilty at his feet. “But I’m telling you now, aren’t I?

“Voldemort knew about me, and I mean that he knew everything about me. He knew who my parents were, what House I was in, even what subjects I was best at. Probably all thanks to Snape, I guess. They had a meeting of some sort, and I saw everyone that was there, though I don’t think many of the names would be much of surprise to anyone. He also knew that,” I glanced at Draco’s sleeping form, his eyelashes fluttering faintly, “ah, that, um, Draco and I were close. Or that we’d been spending some time together this year. Voldemort also knew that you and I were friends,” I said, looking at Harry. “He didn’t know we’d...well, he thought we were on good terms, and he...he said I’d be useful because of that.” 

I hadn’t wanted to tell Harry that, because I knew he’d feel guilty and responsible, even though that wasn’t the case at all. “God, Elaine, I’m so sorry,” Harry stammered. “If- just because of me, you were hurt.”

“If I wasn’t your friend, I doubt that Voldemort would’ve let me live as long as he did. It’s not your fault. Any of this. It’s mine, if anything. I kept poking around places I shouldn’t have and looking into things I should’ve left alone. I just,” my voice cracked, and I swallowed loudly, “thought I could actually do some good, for once. You’d think I’d be smarter than that, wouldn’t you?”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Ron argued, a surprising amount of defiance in his voice. “I won’t let you. None of this is your fault.”

I shrugged. I’d had plenty of time to think of just exactly how it  _ was _ my fault, but I didn’t have the energy to debate with Ron about it right at that moment. “I guess we can argue about that later.

“Voldemort told Draco to take me down to the cellar, because I guess they had something to attend to, but they didn’t say what. Draco brought me down, and he took my wand, and…” Draco’s words ran through my mind, his voice like the caress of velvet even in a situation where my very life was being threatened. “I was down there for a while. I don’t really know how long, to be honest. Long enough that it was dark when Draco came back down. He still had my wand, and he slipped it back to me before bringing me back up.” I was determined to emphasize every single way that Draco had helped me while I’d been at Malfoy Manor, because I needed to prove to my friends that he had changed. 

“When he brought me back up, Voldemort was back, with Bellatrix and Snape and Draco’s parents. Voldemort started going on about how- how I don’t deserve magic. About how I stole my magic, and that the world would be better off without filth like me in it.” I sensed Hermione flinching at my words, but I had to get them out, even though I felt horrible for making her hear what I had to hear. “And then...Bellatrix…” The words wouldn’t come out, no matter how hard I tried, but from the expressions of my friends, I knew they understood. “Voldemort started asking me about you, Harry. What you’d been up to, what Dumbledore was getting you to do. I didn’t- I promise I didn’t tell him anything,” I told the three of them imploringly. “I swear, I didn’t-”

“I know, Elaine. No one would blame you even if you did,” Harry said, doing his best to mask the pain in his voice. 

Holding back the urge to sob, I took those words and tucked them deep within me, making sure to remember them for later, when I would surely need them. “I lied to him, when I could. And when I wouldn’t answer, Bellatrix would do...it again.” Letting out a soft snort, I continued. “You know what’s funny?”

“How could anything about this possibly be funny?” Ron asked, looking at Harry and Hermione like maybe I’d lost my mind. I hadn’t; it might’ve made everything much easier if I had.

I ignored him and the looks my friends were giving me. “If Voldemort hadn’t been such a bloody elitist and just used Legilimency, he would’ve gotten all the information he was looking for. He said my mind was too dirty for him to even consider doing that.”

“So what exactly did you tell him?” Harry asked. 

“I told him that Dumbledore was training you to replace him, but that he didn’t think you were doing good enough at all yet. And Draco backed me up, even though I didn’t tell him to. He kind of just went along with whatever I said, saying you’d barely been in class this year. Voldemort bought it rather easily, but I think that was because he wanted it to be true, you know? I told him that Dumbledore was trying to force Harry to lead, but that Harry didn’t want to because he never even wanted to fight in the first place.” 

Harry’s mouth twitched up in a bitter ghost of a smile, acknowledging that that bit, at least, had been true. “Then Voldemort said that Dumbledore was going to be taken care of soon, whatever that means. And then...well, this maybe wasn’t the wisest choice on my part, but I told Voldemort that Snape had been working with Dumbledore.”

“You ratted Snape out?” Ron asked incredulously. “Voldemort didn’t already know that?”

“He did,” I confirmed. “But he thought that Snape must not have been very careful, if I found out that he was spying for Voldemort and for Dumbledore. He said that perhaps Snape hadn’t been as careful as he’d claimed. I...I honestly thought Voldemort knew what Snape was doing, but I guess he didn’t. Voldemort got rather angry at him, but I didn’t-”

“It’s okay. You didn’t do it to actually put him in danger,” Hermione assured me. “We know you didn’t.”

The amount of relief that surrounded me was enough to make me have to clear my throat before I could speak again. I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed to hear those words. Nothing I had done was done with the intention of hurting someone else. I had just wanted to get out of there alive. “It kind of backfired on me, though, because Voldemort told Snape that if he wanted to prove himself, he only needed to kill me, and Snape would be forgiven.”

“He didn’t say yes, did he?” Hermione asked timidly, as if she were afraid to hear the answer. 

“Right away. Didn’t even think about it.” Ron, Harry, and Hermione all widened their eyes, Hermione sucking in a surprised breath. “Or, at least, he didn’t say no immediately. It took…” I paused, my eyes landing on Harry as I thought about what had happened next. “I’m sorry, Harry, I don’t…”

Harry’s face flatted with understanding. “My mum.”

I decided that, at least for now, Harry didn’t need to hear the specifics of that exchange. There was no reason for him to hear about Snape only working with Dumbledore to try and save his mother, and that when Lily hadn’t lived, Snape had immediately gone running back to his Death Eater friends. “And right as Snape was about to do it, that’s when you all showed up. If you hadn’t shown up right when you did, I would’ve died.” I hadn’t let myself actually internalize that yet, but it was true. Snape’s wand was pointed at my head, entirely ready to say the two words that would’ve ended my life before I even really had a chance to live it. 

My friends looked at me with varying degrees of shock and painful sorrow on their faces as they took in my story. It wasn’t as hard to tell as I thought it would be-- I assumed I wouldn’t even be able to get through it. The hardest part was talking about the Cruciatus curse. Every time I so much as thought about it, I had to fight the urge to lean over and throw up. It was as if even the memory of the curse could cause pain, because it didn’t feel like a memory. The pain felt real, if diminished a bit, every time I’d thought or spoken about it. 

“I think we should let you rest,” Hermione said, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over us since I finished my story. “But we’ll come visit again, okay? Let us know if you need anything.” I nodded. 

She and Ron stood to leave, but Harry said, “I’ll catch up with you in just a moment.” Harry turned to me as they left, and I could barely handle the amount of pain and sorrow etched so deeply into his face. “Elaine, god, I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am. Please, just let me talk,” he said when he saw me start to protest. My heart wrenched, telling me that I could handle little more emotionally today, but on some level, I understood that he needed to talk as much as I needed to hear him. “I know you told me not to blame myself, but I  _ do _ . How could I not? I wasn’t there for you this year, the year that you’ve needed me more than any other. I... _ fuck _ , I abandonded you. I was bitter and childish and stupid and I was so bloody proud and pissed off that I wasn’t able grow up enough to truly apologize to you. And god, the things I said to you. I’ll understand completely if you’re never able to fully forgive me. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fully forgive myself. No matter how angry I was at you, I should’ve been there for you anyway. I don’t get you and Malfoy, if I’m being honest, and I was fucking livid that you were with him, because maybe on some level, I still felt something for you.

“Maybe I don’t know why you’ve gotten so close to Malfoy, but the fact that he’s been there for you more this year than I have is fucking unforgiveable on my part. I mean, what kind of shit friend am I that someone like Malfoy supported you more than I have? But that’s not the point,” Harry said decidedly. “The point is that I failed you this year, as both a boyfriend and a friend, and I am going to do whatever it takes to make that up to you. And as for the whole Malfoy thing…” Harry sighed, brushing his hair from his face. “I can’t say that I’ll be okay with it right away, or that I’ll ever truly be entirely okay with it. But the Malfoy that I saw at Malfoy Manor, the Malfoy that you talked about, is a different one than I know, and that means he’s changing. Or at least trying to change. And if he’s trying, then so can I.”

Harry looked at me, then at Draco. “I don’t know if I can forgive him any time soon, because I think that he has more things he has to make up for still, but I’ll try. I don’t know the whole story, but I guess he isn’t who I always thought he was, is he? He saved two of the most important people to me in less than an hour, and he’s saved your life at least once this year, too. And you, Elaine, are more important to me than almost anyone in the entire world. So I guess that- that Malfoy is...isn’t all bad.” It looked like it pained him just to say it, but it made me happy that he still chose to admit it. 

“No,” I answered, intertwining my fingers with Draco’s again. “He isn’t. He isn’t even who I thought he was. I won’t lie to you, he isn’t always kind. We...we irritate each other and he makes me so bloody angry sometimes, and yet…” I brushed a thumb across his hand, pale blue veins visible beneath his snowy skin. “He’s saved me this year, in ways that I barely understand myself. Draco gets me in ways that no one has, and it seems like he always knows exactly how I’m feeling and what I need before I do. And you’re right, he has so much to make up for, but I think that I’ve forgiven him.”

Saying the words out loud only made me feel more sure. “I’m sick of being angry and holding grudges and letting the past still hurt me. So I forgive him, because Draco needs it right now, more than anything. I know that he hates himself. He pretends to be haughty and proud, but I know that there is so much about himself that he despises. Nothing really excuses his actions, but he’s done enough that I can forgive him. More than forgiveness, though, he needs kindness. He needs to be shown what it feels like to feel loved and to feel like there is a place for him where he can grow and learn and make mistakes without being hurt.”

I saw the faint pink scarring criss-crossing his chest, remnants of his father’s fury and disappointment. “Lucius is a lot like my father,” I confessed to Harry. 

Harry knew me well enough that that was all I had to say. His brows knitted together, his hands twisting in his lap. “I...I had no idea.” 

“You wouldn’t. He learned how to hide it. And I guess because of that, we had this odd sort of connection, you know? Like he got that I didn’t want pity because of my father, and he didn’t let me wallow after Christmas when he saw me with that black eye. He was actually the first person to see it. And, god, it was months ago, practically the start of the year, but I stumbled across him after he’d gone home for a bit. He was a bloody mess. I don’t know why I did, but I helped him. He and I weren’t even-- he was still nothing but the mean and vicious Malfoy I’d known for years at that point.” I sighed, rolling my shoulders back. They’d started to ache from how tightly and stiffly I’d been sitting. “There’s so much you don’t know about this year, Harry. But I want to tell you all of it, eventually.”

“I’ve got a lot to tell you, though I think you’ve got me beat this year for worst story,” he joked. Harry saw me gazing at Draco, wishing that he could hear me say everything I had just told Harry. “I’ll let you rest,” Harry told me. “I just wanted to tell you how sorry I was. How sorry I still am. I’m going to make it up to you.”

I hugged Harry first this time, almost as tightly as he had hugged me. “I know. I forgave you while I was at Malfoy Manor. Worried that you’re going to be killed kind of forces you to put things into perspective, you know?”

Harry laughed softly, and this time, it was a happy laugh. “You’re too good for this world, Elaine. You’ve been put through so much shit, and you should be bitter, but you aren’t.”

“I was,” I argued. “For a long time. Too long. I guess...I guess honestly, I’m just tired of being bitter. All the small things I held against people seemed so stupid when I realized I might not see those people again.”

Harry placed a kiss on my forehead as he let go of me. “You are a good person, Elaine. One of the best I’ve ever met. Get some rest.” 


	43. A/N

Alright, my lovely readers, this is it. The final chapter of Choice's Curse. It feels weird, ending it. I've been working on this since September, and honestly, this story was never meant to be what it is now. It was meant to be short, mostly nsfw, and with no overarching plot. It has developed into something so much more than that, though, and I think that is what this story was always meant to be, even if I didn't know it. This is the first story I've ever completed, and it isn't perfect, but I don't think it needs to be, because it is still so incredibly special to me. I am so, so sad to be leaving Elaine behind, because I feel like I have put so much of myself into her that not writing her anymore is going to be like losing a friend in a weird sort of way. Perhaps this story means more to me than anyone else, but I didn't think I would feel so much sorrow at the end. 

Yes, I have cried at least twice while writing the final chapter. I never thought finishing something could be so bittersweet. Ending Choice's Curse came with a sadness I never expected. 

There are no words to describe how grateful I am for everyone who has read and commented and left kudos on this story. I cannot believe how much some of you love this story. There are some of you who have been here from the very beginning and have left so many comments. I see you, and I recognize your users, and it always makes me smile to see your comments. Thank you, from the very bottom of my heart, for reading this story, because it means so much to me. I'm sad to end this, but I am so thankful for you, my dear readers. I love you so so so much. Thank you for coming on this journey with me. 


	44. Choosing Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love you all. enjoy <3

The second the sound of the heavy hospital wing door shutting reverberated through the nearly deserted space, Draco’s eyes fluttered open, and the sharp silver of his eyes might’ve been my favorite sight I’d ever seen. I had to grip the arms of the chair I was sitting in to stop myself from throwing myself onto him. 

“Do you always talk so highly of me when I can’t hear you?” Draco’s voice was a throaty croak, the sound so scratchy and raw that I could almost feel the rough grate of it in my own throat. 

Hot tears pricked at my eyes for what was at least the tenth time that hour, and I let out a wet laugh, sniffing and not even bothering to hide the trails of moisture that slid down my face. “You heard that? How long have you been awake?” I asked, but I couldn’t find it in myself to be angry. Not when seeing Draco’s open eyes eased so much anxiety in my chest that I finally felt I could breathe again. 

His skin was too pale still, and the heavy bags under his eyes were as dark as bruises, even though he’d been asleep for days. The scrape of his voice must’ve hurt enough to make him wince, but he didn’t show it. But he was awake, and he was okay enough to make jokes. The amount of sheer relief that washed over me felt as warm and wonderful as stepping into a hot shower after being out in the cold winter snow all day. 

“Since Granger and the Weasel left. They had no bedside manner, you know. Who lets a door just swing shut in a hospital wing?” Nothing in the entire world was better than that faint hint of humor that lined Draco’s voice, I decided. In the few days we’d been apart, even though I’d been asleep for much of it, I hadn’t realized that I’d missed that sound quite so much. “I won’t lie, Potter’s apology wasn’t bad. What he did to you this year still makes me so angry I want to break his nose again, but...not a bad apology.”

“It was a good one, wasn’t it?” The healing of Harry and I’s relationship had soothed a wound that I hadn’t let myself acknowledge had still been festering. “He said some nice things about you, too, though I’m sure you didn’t miss those parts.”

Draco twisted toward me, or tried to, but the movement pulled on the gauze wrapped around his body, making him cry out through gritted teeth as the burnt skin spanning most of his side was jostled. He stilled immediately, but I could tell from his clenched jaw and shallow, quick breaths that the pain was still persisting. I whipped my head around, searching for Madam Pomfrey, but Draco stopped me with a gentle, cold hand on mine. 

“I’m fine,” Draco grunted. The bravado of bearing the pain might have impressed me if it hadn’t been accompanied by the agony that had pinched his face. That was still drawing his straight nose into a scrunch as he did his best to breathe through the flare of hurt that he’d caused himself by moving too much. 

“Liar,” I argued, but much like Draco, the sharpness of my voice was dulled by the worry that had seized my chest when Draco had let out such a pained, terrible noise. 

A few seconds passed before Draco could respond again. “It’s fine. Stupid of me to forget half of me is more burns than skin.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to get Madam Pomfrey?” I asked, worried that the movement might've somehow disrupted the healing that had taken place so far. 

Draco nodded. “Yes. I...if you’ll allow me to be selfish for a moment, I’d like to keep you to myself for just a bit longer. It’s been-it’s been days since we’ve been able to talk.”

A shard of pain punctured my heart because of the sorrow so audible in Draco’s words. “You can be selfish all you want,” I assured him, another tearful chuckle bubbling up in my chest. “I’d say you’ve earned it.” Ah, and _there_ was the anger. The terror of seeing him so pale and injured, the horrid smell of burning flesh washed over me again. “What the hell were you thinking, by the way? You could’ve fucking _died_ , you bloody idiot!” I knew I wasn’t really angry at Draco, that I was just scared and tired and my body had been through so much that my emotions seemed more like a tangled ball of yarn. 

Silvery gray eyes met my own, and the understanding in them made me nearly start to cry once again. “I’m sorry,” Draco told me truthfully, somberly. “I was-”

“Was what? Trying to get yourself fucking _killed_? Before I even-” Emotion choked me, my throat so thick I couldn’t speak because I was sure I’d just burst into sobs. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Draco’s eyes clouded, and I saw the answer in his face before he even opened his mouth. “I saw that Snape was about to take a cheap shot at McGonagall, and everyone else had already left. It was either watch her die and leave like a coward or make sure that she made it back. If you ever tell anyone I said this...well, I guess it doesn’t matter.” Draco let out a huff of air through his nose. “I figured it was better she returned alive than me. Hogwarts needs her, and so do the students.” 

“And no one needs you?” It wasn’t as though I was upset that McGonagall was still alive; quite the opposite. Draco was right, the school did need her, as much- if not more- than it needed Dumbledore. But Draco saying he saved her because she was more _needed_ than he was? I could barely fight through the hot burn of sadness that choked my throat. “People need you.”

“Do they? I know what people think of me. I would be stupid to expect that anyone is going to just welcome me with open arms after everything that I’ve done. I figured if I was going to die, I might as well make my death mean something good, since my life didn’t mean anything at all.” 

My heart splintered, scattering shards of pain across my chest. There was no self-pity in his words, no cry for attention. Like always, Draco was laying out the facts, or at least the things that seemed like facts to him. They weren’t facts, though. His life _did_ mean something, and not just to me. Without Draco, Ron, McGonagall, and I would all be dead, but even if he hadn’t saved us, his life meant something simply because he was alive. “And so you saved McGonagall because you thought that your life is only worth something if you sacrificed it.” 

Draco’s face hardened, turning back into the Malfoy that I’d known for years for a split second. “Why are you saying it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I was _stupid_ for thinking so. Ask anyone, Elaine, and they’ll agree with me. I have done…” Draco’s voice cracked. I’d forgotten just how painful that sound was, how unsettling it was to see him show such rawness. “I’ve done things that I don’t deserve forgiveness for. And I certainly do not deserve forgiveness from you. I haven’t done a single thing to warrant that, and you know that. I haven’t-”

“Shut up,” I interrupted, unable to keep the anger from ripping through. “Just shut up, will you? You don’t get to decide if I forgive you or not. And do you know why I’ve forgiven you?” Draco set his jaw, shaking his head so minutely I almost missed it. He would never ask, but he wanted to hear why, and I was more than willing to tell him. “Because you’ve changed. Because you used to shudder at the very thought of touching me, and now, you don’t even give it a second thought.” I held up our intertwined hands, presenting the proof that was right before his eyes. “You used to sneer at me, and now you...you’ve been there for me more than anyone else this year, even if it wasn’t on purpose. You did bad things, yes, but you feel sorry for them, and that, to me, proves that you are different. I’ve seen you change and grow over the past months in a way that I would never have thought possible, so yes, I forgive you. And you deserve that forgiveness.” 

“I never thought I’d say this, but Potter was right,” Draco said, his eyes anywhere but mine. I knew that looking somewhere else made it easier to say hard things, but that didn’t mean that I wanted to see those stormy eyes of his looking at me. “You’re too good, you know? Forgiving people who don’t deserve it, still being kind and good even though you have every right not to be.” 

“I’m not too good,” I argued. “I’m anything but that. Why is it so unbelievable that I forgive you? Or that I forgave Harry? You both seem to forget that I know you, both of you, in ways that not many other people do. If anything, that only makes it easier for me to move on from the past. We haven’t always been on good terms, which is such a light way of putting it, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t seen a different side of you this year. I’d argue that I’ve seen more of you this year than anyone has. You let me in, Draco. How could I not see you for who you really are, at the very core of your being?”

Draco scoffed quietly, a sound that was not angry, but dismissive, as if he didn’t believe what he was hearing. “And who would that be? Because all anyone else sees is someone bad, like my father.” 

“You know, you aren’t your father,” I told him sternly. “You are so wildly different from that cowardly bastard, and you know that. I _know_ you know that. If you weren’t different, you wouldn’t have given me my wand back. You wouldn’t have gone along with my lie to Voldemort. You wouldn’t have saved McGonagall.”

“How do you know I didn’t do those things just to help myself?” Draco shot back, his voice rising a bit. 

I stopped myself from rolling my eyes, because that sentiment was utterly ridiculous, but I knew that Draco just needed someone to counter those fears, to tell him he hadn’t done them out of selfishness, but out of being _good_ . “Because those things didn’t help you, you bloody idiot. If someone had found out you did all of that, especially for someone like me, it would’ve branded you as a traitor, and you would’ve been lucky if they didn’t kill you. You did those things because it was the _right_ thing to do, and you know it. You aren’t bad, Draco. You’ve done bad things, but that doesn’t make you a bad person, because you did not do those things willingly, not the truly bad things. No one is perfect. I’ve been...I’ve been horrible this year to some people, but am I a bad person?”

“No,” Draco answered sharply. 

“Neither are you,” I pointed out. “Bad people do bad things willingly, and have no remorse for them. Good people do bad things and they always find a way to fix it as well as they can. So don’t you _dare_ , Draco Malfoy, try and convince me you’re bad. If it weren’t for you, Ron and McGonagall wouldn’t be here. If it weren’t for you,” flashes of pain, of being in a dark cloud of sadness and sorrow so heavy it had seemed to suffocate me danced through my memories, “I wouldn’t have pushed through my father kicking me out.” 

I hadn’t told anyone that, or even really confronted it myself, but it was true. Finding some reason to continue on after such a terrible return home had seemed futile at best, until I’d been able to lose myself in that strange dance of attraction and antagonization Draco and I had done for so long. “Whatever this is, it gave me a distraction back then. It helped me forget about...about everything. And don’t forget, when you and Harry dueled in that bathroom, you literally saved my life. You also saved my life when that cursed bludger was out to get me, and you didn’t even _like_ me back then. You wouldn’t even be within five feet of me if you could help it.

“You’ve done all this good to me, _for_ me, in such a short time, and you still have the audacity to call yourself bad?” I shook my head. “You’re fucking daft.” 

“That bludger was ages ago. How do you still remember that?” Draco asked. 

I looked around the hospital wing, my eyes landing on the bed I’d woken up on during that particular visit. “How could I not? I remember being so fucking confused that you’d saved me that I honestly thought I’d died or hit my head hard enough that I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“I wasn’t thinking clearly either, you know. I didn’t plan...I mean, I saw the bludger flying towards you, and my first instinct was to push you out of the way,” Draco confessed. “Afterwards, I was so confused why I’d done it. I loathed you. Why would I care if you got hit by a bludger?” Draco shut his eyes, breathing out tightly. “And then I was stupid enough to send you fucking _chocolates_ like a-”

“You sent those?” I’d entirely forgotten I’d never found out who those were from. I’d just assumed they had been from Harry, because we’d started dating just a short time after that. 

Draco snorted gently. “Yeah. I actually was coming up to get them when I ran into you in the hallway. I was hoping you would be sleeping, but. You weren’t.” 

A fluttery feeling erupted in my stomach, a wild relief compared to the waves of anxiety and fear and nausea I’d been feeling nonstop for what felt like days on end. “Just another example that proves my point. Even back then, when we weren’t,” _What were we?_ “Anything, you still saved me for no other reason than I was in danger and you were there.” 

Closing his eyes, Draco was silent for a moment. It seemed as though he’d fallen asleep, so I tried to ease my hand out of his, needing to get up and stretch my legs. His fingers tightened around mine, though, and I sat back down. With his eyes still shut, in such a quiet, broken voice that I felt as though someone was carving a hole in my chest, Draco asked, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you so set on proving to me that I’m a good person? Why do you care so much?” 

His question seemed to barrel into me, making that hole in my chest cave open even wider, the sorrow there so heavy it seemed as though it could actually weigh me down. “Because,” I responded, lowering my voice into a tone someone might use with a wounded animal, soft and gentle and slow. “You deserve to have someone do that for you. You deserve to be shown that you are redeemable, that you are worthy of care and love simply because you exist. And I want...I want to be that person for you. If you’ll let me.” 

Draco’s eyes opened at that, and I was shocked to see a tear leak out of the corner of his eye, dropping down his face and onto the white pillow he was laying on. Turning his head as much as he could, Draco looked at me, making my heart jump. “It’s not going to be easy. This isn’t...so many people will be angry at you. And I am not...I’m not good, not like you are.”

“I don’t care,” I answered instantly, because truly, I did not have to think about it, not even for a moment. “I don’t care what others think. They haven’t gone through what we have. You think I think this would be easy? What about our- us has been easy this year? Or ever? I don’t want easy. I want you.” 

Draco studied me, as if searching for some tell that I was lying. I wasn’t, though, and there were very few things in my life that I had ever been _more_ sure about. “It isn’t hard, though. Loving you. Loving you is easy. It’s easier than I ever thought it could be, and I think that’s why I struggled with it so much. Why I fought against it for so long. It should’ve been hard, all things considered. But loving you…” I smiled a small smile, one that couldn’t quite convey the affection and love and want that I felt. “Loving you feels like something that has been there all along. I can’t imagine _not_ feeling this way, now that I do. I think it would be harder to try and not love you.” 

“I want that,” Draco told me, and those three words seemed to pave over the hole in my chest so quickly that it felt like it had never been there at all. “More than I even know how to say. But I’ve got _so_ much, so many things that-”

“So do I.” We were both messes; that wasn’t a secret. It wasn’t like I didn’t know at least some of what Draco was going to have to get over and heal from. “We’ve both got things that are going to be really, really hard to heal from. But I’d rather do it with you. It’ll make it easier, I think. To do it together.” 

The smile that Draco wore made it nearly impossible for me to resist leaning down and kissing him, but I did. I still wasn’t sure where we were at with _that_ portion of everything, and he was still healing. 

“Elaine,” Draco said tentatively, and a shiver ran up my spine as the delicious sound of my name from his lips wrapped around me. “Before Bellatrix interrupted us, you said something to me.”

My heart jumped, picking up speed, knowing exactly what he was referring to. How could I forget? “I did. I meant it, if that’s what you were going to ask. I don’t think I’ve ever meant anything more.”

Relief relaxed the anxious tension that had hardened Draco’s face, and he sighed. Actually _sighed,_ as though he’d just heard the best news of his life. “Thank fuck,” he replied, a slight laugh in his voice. “I was worried that you were going to change your mind. After, you know.”

“After being held captive in your house and being tortured? Surely, you don’t think I could be so easily persuaded,” I joked, because that was the only way I could talk about what had happened at his house without breaking down. “Draco, _nothing_ , could change the way I feel about you. Believe me, I tried for so long before...before I realized I could have you.”

“You have me, Elaine. Heart and soul. All I could think about while we were at the Manor was the fact that I might’ve wasted my only chance to tell you how I truly felt. Because I love you, Elaine, more entirely than I’ve ever loved anything. You fit, right in here,” Draco lifted a hand, patting his chest once, “like a puzzle piece. Like you were always meant to be there. I love you, Elaine, every single bit of you. The good parts, and the parts that make you wish you were someone else entirely. And I am so fucking glad that you are not someone else, because I didn’t realize that it always felt like something was missing until I met you. 

“It’s like this pull, in my stomach, and it’s impossible to ignore. And I tried, just like you did. But I don’t want that anymore. Before you say anything,” Draco looked at me, his grey eyes unsure, “I know that I haven’t treated you well. I’ve not treated you the way you deserve, and the amount of- of _regret_ I feel for that will never-” he paused, holding back a choked cry, “but if you’ll let me, I swear with everything I fuckng have that I will show you what you deserve. I have so much to make up for, but I care the most about making it up to you. I know you’ve forgiven me, and that is something that I will never, _ever_ take for granted. But I want to prove to you that I deserve your forgiveness, and that being with me is not a mistake. I have hurt you, I’ve pushed you away, and you still-you keep coming back.” 

Draco pushed himself up so that he was sitting, groaning and grunting with the pain and effort. Before I could tell him to lay back down, he shook his head. “No. _No_ . I need- I need to be able to see you fully, so you know that I am telling you the truth.” I wanted to protest, wanted to make him lay down and soothe the lines of agony so clear on his face, but I let him speak. “Elaine, I have never met someone that made life feel worth it. I have never met someone that sees past everything I throw at them. I would understand entirely if you never want to be with me, even though that thought nearly kills me every time I think it, because the things I’ve said and done to you are inexcusable, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it. But please, if you- if you think you can bear being with me, I promise I’ll make it worth it. You have shown me what love is _meant_ to be, and I can’t give that up. I can’t give you up. Life before you was dull and gray and hardly worth experiencing, but with you, it is loud and wonderful and insane and I never want anything but that. I didn’t even think that I was capable of falling in love. I didn’t even think I was capable of _receiving_ love like the kind you have given me. Things have been a bloody nightmare, but you have been the only bright spot out of all the darkness. 

“I hardly know who I am, not really, because so much of my life has been dictated for me, but the person I am with you, the person you make me want to be, I like that person. You are the one kindness life has given me, and I don’t know why I kept pushing you away, why I kept treating you so terribly. Chalk it up to...to being stupid and horrible. But it will _never_ be like that again. The only thing that has gotten me through this year is you, and I would never forgive myself if I ruined this. I don’t want to be unsure and to second guess and to not be with you. I want to be with you, Elaine, for as long as you’ll possibly have me.”

The tears flowed freely once more, so much love welling up within me that I could barely breathe. I couldn’t hold myself back anymore; I surged forward, connecting our mouths with such fervent need that it nearly knocked Draco over backwards. The hot, soft press of his lips against mine was enough to make the tears start all over again, and I felt my body tremble as Draco’s hands came up to cup my face so gently it was like he thought I was going to break. 

Kissing him again felt good, but it wasn’t just that that had my blood racing in my veins, had my heart fluttering in my chest. Being close with Draco soothed every worry that I had, destroyed every pain I felt, because when I was touching him, that was all I could think about. I could only think about the brush of his thumb against my cheek, the tears from both our eyes combining, the way that kissing him felt more right than anything had ever felt. 

Pulling back just enough to rest my forehead against his, I whispered, almost reverently, “Forever,” I said. “I want you forever.”

~

My stomach growled so loudly that I stilled for a moment, praying it hadn’t disturbed Draco, who’d only fallen asleep a few minutes prior. Easing my hand out of his, I stood up, my legs groaning with the effort, and I quietly made my way out of the hospital wing in search of some food. Madam Pomfrey had let me go, but only after warning me that I had to be quick and that I should just go straight down to the kitchen, because the light and sound in the Great Hall wouldn’t do well for my head. 

I carefully walked down to the kitchen, every sound hitting my head like a pick. I hadn’t realized how dim Madam Pomfrey kept the infirmary until I was met with the bright, flickering torchlight that lined the corridors. It danced across my vision, only furthering my newly budding headache. Already, I was missing the dark quiet of the hospital wing, but I was so hungry and so in need of a walk that I was willing to bear the trek down to the kitchen. Madam Pomfrey had given me a few meals, but they’d all been a bit bland, so that it wouldn’t upset my stomach. I was craving something warm and rich that would actually fill me up, not just satiate the hunger that was gnawing at me. 

Besides, I hadn’t vomited in a good twelve hours or so, so I didn’t know what Madam Pomfrey was so worried about. 

The house elves in the kitchen were kind enough to make me a meal, even though they were already busy preparing dinner, and I thanked them copiously as they handed me enough for two people to eat their fill and still have some left over. Exiting the kitchen, I saw Professor Slughorn waddling down the hall, his robes trailing behind him as he hummed softly to himself. When he spotted me, his brows raised in surprise. 

“Ms. Adler! How nice to see you up and about,” he greeted jovially. “I would be remiss if I didn’t admit that I have heard all about the unfortunate events that took place over the past few days. You’ll find, I’m sure, that once you return to your normal schedule, that many students have heard about it as well.”

I winced. “Right. I was afraid of that.”

“Not to worry, my dear. You are a hero, from what I’ve heard. I would expect many students feel that way.”

A hero? I had done nothing heroic besides not giving up information about Harry, and even then, that could barely be counted as anything brave. “I’m certainly not a hero, professor. Just was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” 

“On the contrary,” Slughorn argued. “I happen to know a number of rather brave things you did, the least of which was helping Dumbledore discover that Snape is in fact not to be trusted. And facing He Who Must Not Be Named and living to tell the tale...not many people can claim similarly.”

“That doesn’t make me a hero, sir. I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but honestly, I was just hoping to buy myself some time. Or at least buy others some time.”

Slughorn studied me, his brows knitted together. “I am sorry, Ms. Adler, for what you were put through. No one, and I mean no one, should ever experience what you did. You are very, very brave indeed. But I know that bravery was not your focus, was it?”

“No, sir,” I admitted. It felt horrible to say so, but all I’d been trying to do was make it out alive. “I was just…” Saying the words out loud was too hard so soon. 

“And I am glad you did. As are many others. I have been watching you this year, you know. You have been an exceptional student of mine, though that is no secret. While I am incredibly impressed with your performance in my class, if you’ll allow me to say so, I am more impressed with the person you have become this year. I recognize that I do not know everything that has happened to you, but it is easy to see that you are not the same Elaine Adler that I met at the beginning of this year.”

I sniffed, determined not to cry yet _again._ I was starting to think that I was never going to stop wanting to cry at this rate. “Thank you, Professor,” I said, surprised. “That is...thank you.” Putting into words just how much it meant to me to hear that was impossible, but I hoped that Slughorn knew all the same. 

Slughorn smiled at me, that same one he’d given me the night that Cho and I had fought so terribly and he had found me crying in the corridor. “You are a remarkable young lady, Ms. Adler. Remarkable, indeed.” Slughorn seemed to be done, so I went to leave, but he spoke again. “My apologies. One more thing, and I shall let you eat and rest. There are few people in this world capable of reaching out to those that need it most, and even fewer that are able to absolve those people of any untoward behavior they might have had. I do hope I am not overstepping, but as Draco is part of my House, I hope you will indulge me in thanking you.”

“Thanking me? What for?”

“For reaching out your hand, Ms. Adler, to someone who needed it more than anyone I’ve ever met.” Slughorn looked down at his feet, his features ridden with guilt. “I was in a similar position once, and instead of helping, I chose to ignore it. That decision will stay with me until the end of my days. I know that Mr. Malfoy has not been the kindest to you, or to many others, but I am beyond grateful that you saw how desperately he needed someone. Mr. Malfoy is an incredibly talented wizard with an incredibly bright future, and I was sure that that future wasn’t going to happen for him. You, my dear, have done more for him than you know.” He nodded once, with a sort of finality that seemed to bring a close to things. “My apologies for keeping you so long. I hope you feel much better soon, Ms. Adler.” 

“Thank you, Professor. Draco has done just as much for me,” I said. 

The sparkle in Slughorn’s eye told me that he was aware of that. “Yes, and that is why I hope the two of you hold onto each other, no matter what comes your way. It is very rare to find someone so well-suited for yourself.” 

Slughorn continued on, and so did I, ready to sit down and eat a warm meal for the first time in too many days. His words ran through my head like a creek over pebbles, igniting something warm, something comforting in me. Perhaps it was rather egotistical of me, but it made me so incredibly happy to know that I had made some sort of difference in Draco’s life, just like he had made in mine. 

Slughorn telling me to hold onto Draco as if I ever intended on letting go, especially after all we’d been through, was rather funny. At this point, if everything that had happened hadn’t already discouraged me from him, I was sure that nothing would. 

And I didn’t want anything to. Thinking about everything that had happened between us this year, even the horrible, painful, terrifying things, only made me more sure that fighting for Draco, fighting to convince him and everyone else that he was good and deserved a second chance, was well worth any amount of time that it would take. 

I had felt love in my life, love that was gentle and kind and fleeting. Draco had shown me an entirely different kind of love. A kind of love that was hot, that _hurt_ , that fit so well in me it scared me. A sort of love that wasn’t necessarily unconditional, at least not at first, but the sort of love that worked _with_ the horrors I’d been through, not around them. There was a relief more incredible than anything I had ever felt knowing that my past did not matter to Draco, just like his did not matter to me. We still had to face those pasts, still had so much to work through, but it seemed much less daunting knowing that through it all, he would be with me. 

He would be with me through the pain, the healing, the nightmares that were sure to come, and I would be there with him through the change and growth and forgiveness, because that is what we did for each other. Draco had said it wouldn’t be easy, and I knew that. I didn’t care, though, not a single bit. I would defend Draco until my very last breath against anyone that chose to hurt or antagonize him. I always wanted to hold him close, and I would do anything to make that happen. 

There was not a single thing I wouldn’t do for Draco. I would move the stars in the sky, change the seasons, if it meant helping him. Few people are lucky enough to meet their soulmate in their life, and I, for some reason, was one of those fortunate few. There was no doubt in my mind that on every level, Draco and I were meant for each other. Not from the start, no, but as the people were now, as the people we were becoming, we were made for one another. 

Draco and I weren’t perfect, and we would likely always argue and be at each other’s throats at least periodically, but I knew that whatever anger burned in his eyes, his feelings for me were stronger and brighter. I wasn’t sure what the future looked like; I didn’t even know what tomorrow was going to hold, but I did know one thing. 

I chose Draco. And he was always going to choose me.


End file.
